Undercover Ops and Cake Don't Mix
by OkapiSeeks
Summary: Juliet is undercover, Shawn is out of the loop, and Lassiter is in for a really bad day. When Shawn gets curious about Juliet's new case, he crosses the line. Lassie tries to stop him, but they both end up being right where they're needed. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I do not own any of the characters of Psych and am not affiliated with the show or USA Network. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**CHAPTER 1**

Shawn Spencer walked through the doors of the SBPD, scanning everything, as usual, but with a sharper focus than normal. He almost looked...serious. He rounded the corner from the reception desk and brightened instantly when he caught a flash of blonde hair near Detective O'Hara's desk. The brightness dimmed almost as quickly when he registered that the blonde hair belonged to an officer who was just walking past the desk, not to Juliet. He scanned the room again, feeling that uncomfortable tightness between his shoulder blades that he particularly hated. It was his worst annoyance, his biggest pet peeve: Shawn Spencer hated not knowing what was happening. And for the past few days, he didn't know what had been happening with his favorite detective. She had been absent from the station, and as usual Lassie had been totally uncooperative. When he'd been able to corner his less-favorite detective, which had been strangely harder to do, he'd been able to get no information from him whatsoever. Shawn was even contemplating following Lassiter to see if he would lead him to Juliet. He walked over and stood near her desk, staring at it accusingly.

"Hey, Shawn," greeted Buzz McNab as he walked past.

"Hey, Buzz," said Shawn. "Has Juliet been in today?"

"Actually, yes, I just saw her."

Shawn's eyes widened and he whirled to face the young officer. "Where? Where?"

Buzz took a half-step backwards in surprise. "Uh, she just came in the back door, by the lockers."

Shawn was already running for the steps that led down to the holding cells and the locker area. Buzz watched him go with a puzzled expression.

"Jules!" yelled Shawn as he skidded to a halt at the bottom of the steps.

Juliet was just putting something in one of the lockers. As he approached, she shut the locker quickly as if she was trying to keep the item from view.

"Hey, Shawn," she said with her patented bright smile. Shawn could tell that she seemed flustered or rushed, though. Something wasn't quite right.

"Jules, where have you been? Are you sick?"

"What? No, I'm fine. I've just been working," she said. She was still smiling, but it looked forced, and she seemed unfocused, like her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Working on a case?"

"Yes."

"Without Lassie?"

Juliet finally looked Shawn in the eyes and seemed to focus totally on him and their conversation. "Well, yes, for this one. It's a special case," she said vaguely. He realized with a shock that she seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Shawn tilted his head and looked at her expectantly, but she didn't elaborate.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around much, Shawn. I just can't talk about it right now, and I really need to go," she said, glancing around the room. She turned slightly, as if preparing to escape.

"Um, okay," he said, trying to figure out something to say to keep her talking.

"Bye, Shawn. Behave," she said with a mock-stern look, her eyes twinkling. She turned and walked briskly to the hallway that led to the back door of the police station.

Shawn's brow furrowed, and he started to follow her. He stepped into the hallway and saw Juliet just going through the back door of the station on the heels of another person. He glimpsed a dark sedan parked near the door.

"Hey, Shawn," said Buzz from the top of the steps.

Shawn pulled up short and then looked over his shoulder at Buzz. "Hey, Buzz?"

"I'm sorry, Shawn, but I need to ask you not to go down there."

"What?" Shawn stared at Buzz as if he'd grown another set of arms.

"Authorized personnel only, Shawn. Sorry," said Buzz, giving Shawn his best puppy-dog eyes.

Shawn grimaced. "Are you serious? Since when?"

Buzz just shrugged.

Shawn looked around, turning slowly and peering intently at the walls and desks. "Am I being punked?"

Buzz's eyes widened, and he looked around, too. "Gee, Shawn. I don't think so."

Shawn sighed and walked up the steps to stand next to Buzz. "There's some weird stuff going on around here, man."

Buzz shrugged again.

Shawn started to walk towards the entrance of the station, mind buzzing about what Juliet could be doing. It had to be an undercover assignment, because that's the only time he'd ever seen her working on a case without Lassiter. Well, except for the time Lassie had been suspended. And why else would she be leaving her cell phone in her locker? But what kind of undercover assignment could it be? She had been wearing a pair of slacks, a pretty top and a short-sleeved cardigan sweater that had looked somewhat expensive. It definitely wasn't her normal police-work outfit. Maybe it was some kind of white collar criminal investigation. The guy she'd followed out the back door had been somewhat short, pudgy and balding. Shawn had to admit he made a good undercover officer, because he looked nothing like a cop. He had been carrying a fancy, box-like leather case. Or was it called a satchel? Tote? Anyway, he'd noticed the initials "VB" embossed on the...case thing. As he was rounding the corner towards the front doors, lost in his thoughts, he nearly collided with Lassiter who was striding into the station and scowling furiously.

"Watch where you're going, Spencer," growled Lassiter as he barely managed to sidestep away from Shawn.

Shawn pursed his lips, feeling Lassiter's irritated mood spark the fuse of his own bottled up frustrations. "Excuse me, Detective Right-Of-Way," he drawled, holding his hands out to his sides.

Lassiter's shoulders hunched and he paused, making a half-turn to look at Shawn. "What the hell does that mean?"

Shawn had the overwhelming desire to needle his favorite pincushion, so he skipped past the cryptic references and aimed straight for drawing blood. "So, what's Juliet been up to lately?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes and turned towards his desk. "Not this again, Spencer," he said with a groan. "Just drop it. I have work to do."

"Come on, Lassie, just tell me where she is!" cried Shawn, a note of exasperation clear in his voice.

Lassiter whirled around to face him. "Dammit, Spencer, can't you get it through your thick skull? I don't know where she is!" yelled Lassiter, his tone a mirror of Shawn's.

"You don't know? Really? Well, it's okay because I've already figured out that she's working undercover."

Lassiter raised his eyebrows, a brief look of surprise in his eyes before his standard glare covered it again. "Oh really? You figured that out, did you? How did you manage to do that?"

"It was pretty obvious when I talked to her just now," said Shawn with a smirk.

Lassiter blinked, the look of surprise clear again. "You...just now...O'Hara is here?" he asked, looking around the room hopefully.

"Well, she's gone now. She seemed to be in a hurry. It must be a really exciting case," said Shawn, sensing his opening.

Lassiter glared at Shawn for a moment, hands on hips and jaw working furiously, looking like he was counting down the level of his anger. "Not that I should have to explain this to you, *again*," he said, voice sounding forcibly steady with an undertone of grinding stones. "Especially after the near-debacle you caused for Detective Johnson's case."

Shawn rolled his eyes and held up a hand. "Don't throw that in my face, Lassie."

"Fine. Then see if you can understand this. You...not cop. O'Hara...cop. She's working on a case. The end."

"Very cute. You're like a tall, cranky version of Mr. Rogers. Thanks for the bedtime story, but all I really wanted to know was what kind of case Juliet's working on."

"All you want, Spencer, is to have your cake and eat it too," growled Lassiter. "Well, I'm all out of cake today. Sorry. You're just going to have to do some work for yourself. Divine or sense or commune with the spirits. Whatever. Knock yourself out. Just leave so O'Hara and I can do our real jobs here in the real world."

Shawn sighed and gave him a mirthless smile. "Okay. Sure, I can divine a lot, Lassie. Like, I'm sensing that you really don't know where Juliet is."

Lassiter threw his hands up in the air and barked out a laugh. "I told you that! You didn't divine it."

"I divined that you don't know where she is because you've been left out in the cold as much as I have," said Shawn, making the final cut. "How about that?"

Lassiter shifted his eyes to the side and then back to Shawn, and his face seemed to melt into a deep frown. "She's doing her job, Spencer. I'm doing mine."

"Right. Sounds fulfilling. I'll be off, then. I have a sudden craving for cake," he said with a smirk as he turned to go.

Lassiter shot a suspicious look at Shawn's retreating form. "Spencer, do not go poking your nose into O'Hara's case."

Shawn turned around and walked backwards towards the station doors. "Do I look like Jack Horner?"

Lassiter's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"The kid, in the nursery rhyme, sticking his nose in the cake."

Lassiter shook his head in confusion. "Little Jack Horner? He stuck his thumb in a pie, not his nose in a cake."

Shawn grinned, still walking backwards. "I've heard it both ways," he quipped. Then he turned and walked out of the station.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter closed his eyes tightly for a moment, bringing his breathing under control. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a number of people throwing surreptitious glances his way, and a few pairs and groups holding whispered discussions. He grimaced and mentally kicked himself for getting drawn into an argument, yet again, with Spencer. He was sure this one would reach the chief's ears, too, when she got back from her meeting. Unfortunately, as the irritating psychic was wont to do, Spencer had hit a raw nerve when he'd started digging at Lassiter about Juliet's case. Lassiter really had been left out in the cold, or at least it felt that way. The chief had assigned Juliet to assist a special task force working on recent jewel thefts in the area. They had needed a female officer experienced in undercover work. Other than that, Lassiter knew very little of the operation. The chief had told him to carry on with his current cases and that she expected Juliet to be back in a week or so. He'd accepted the orders at the time with what he'd felt was grace, but now after the show he'd put on with Spencer, it was going to be all over the station that he wasn't happy with the situation.

He turned back towards his desk, feeling acutely disappointed that he'd just missed seeing his partner. Even if they couldn't discuss her case, it would've been nice talking to her again. It would've felt normal. The last few days had just been...off. He sighed and sat heavily in his chair. He had reports to finish and some witness follow-ups to do. Juliet had only been gone four days, but he already felt the extra load of work beginning to strain his time and patience. It was nice having a partner to share the work, and it was especially nice to have such a pleasant and effective partner as Juliet O'Hara. But it was also frustrating to have that partner leave him alone to run off on a secret mission investigating jewel thieves. He felt that annoying pang again, what he recognized as jealousy but was ashamed to admit even to himself. Juliet was a good officer, and she was doing her job, he told himself just as he'd told Spencer. He felt another pang, stronger this time, only now it was directed at Shawn Spencer. He just knew in his core that Spencer was going to try and find out what Juliet was up to, and as much or more than feeling anger at Spencer for interfering with police business, he felt jealousy that Spencer probably would, and could, break the rules to find out what Juliet was doing.

Lassiter huffed out a half-sigh, half-growl and decided he might as well get some lunch and let his emotions cool. He grabbed his suit coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on as he stalked towards the doors. He donned sunglasses as he stepped out of the station and into the bright Santa Barbara day. Mexican, he thought ruefully, feeling that the burn of spicy food would distract him from the pain Spencer had caused in his neck. He took a somewhat leisurely lunch at his favorite taco stand, leisurely for him meaning that he ate his food on a bench instead of in his car. He watched the pedestrians walk by and busied his mind with visions of all of the jaywalking citations he could be handing out. The irritations of earlier had begun to fade when his cell phone rang. It was the chief. The tacos performed a quick dance in his stomach.

"Hello, Chief," he said, keeping the grimace on his face out of his voice.

"Detective, I need to see you, in my office, ASAP. And bring Mr. Spencer with you," said Chief Vick with a disturbingly clipped tone.

He closed his eyes. "Um, sure thing, Chief, but Spencer isn't with me right now."

"I didn't ask if he was with you, Detective. I said bring him with you."

"Uh, right. Copy that. I will need to track him down..."

"As. Soon. As. Possible," she said menacingly, and then she hung up.

Lassiter blew out a long breath and rubbed a hand across his face. He couldn't remember the chief sounding this angry in a long time. He searched for the fire of his own anger, but the heat of the chief's fury had eclipsed it. Now there was only resignation and anticipation of a massive chewing-out in his future. At least he wouldn't have to endure it alone, he thought with grim satisfaction. He opened his phone again and dialed Spencer's number. The call went to voicemail.

"Oh, you're not going to worm your way out of this one, Spencer," said Lassiter as he hung up and then dialed again. He noticed a woman nearby give him an odd look and rolled his eyes. He stood up and walked to his car as he listened to the phone ring through to voicemail again. "Dammit!"

He got in the car and dialed again. This time Shawn picked up after the fourth ring. "Lassie! I just saw you, like, a half hour ago. And you miss me already! I gotta say this stalkerish behavior isn't very becoming of you."

"Shut it, Spencer. The chief wants to see us in her office, ASAP."

"No can do, Lassifoo," he said with a strangely subdued voice, almost like he was trying to whisper. "Kinda busy at the moment."

Lassiter narrowed his eyes and paused, hearing a familiar noise coming from Spencer's side of the line. He couldn't quite place the sound, though. "It's not a request, Spencer. The chief is hot, and ducking this is only going to make it worse."

"Well, I agree that Chief Vick is an attractive woman, but I didn't realize you felt that way about her, Lassie."

"What the...NO! I didn't mean that kind of hot...dammit Spencer! She's pissed off at us for arguing in the station earlier. She's going to reprimand us."

"Oh! Well, if you put it that way...why the hell would I want to rush back to the station for that? Seriously, dude, you need to get out more."

Lassiter closed his eyes and growled into the phone. "You will go to the station, now! I am not facing the chief's wrath alone on this one."

There was a pause on the other end, and then a beeping noise, as if Spencer's phone was running low on battery. "Really can't, Lassie," said Shawn again, sounding distracted.

"I will find you and drag you in there by your precious hair if you don't."

"Oooh! Okay that doesn't help the stalkerish problem you seem to be having."

"Where are you?" asked Lassiter through clenched teeth.

"Oh, wait, you want to have your cake and eat it too? Sorry, I'm all out of cake...well, I am now, because I ate it all. And now I need milk. See ya, Lassie."

"Spencer! Don't hang up, so help me..." he stopped when he heard the line go dead. "Sonofabitch!" He slammed the phone shut so hard he was vaguely afraid it might be broken, but at the moment he didn't care. He took a few breaths to clear the red haze from the edge of his vision, and then he narrowed his eyes again. The sound he'd heard in the phone. He placed it now. It was the sound of the bell tower near the West Beach boatyards. And those yards were only a few minutes away. A feral grin broke out on his face.

"I smell cake," he said as he started the car and took off towards the boatyards, tires squealing.

He almost turned on the lights, but decided he was in enough trouble with the chief already. As he drove, he tried to figure out what Spencer could be doing at the boatyards. It had to have something to do with Juliet's case. Spencer must've figured out something about it, already. He grimaced and marveled yet again at Spencer's ability to put together the most obscure observations to come up with accurate conclusions. At least, they were accurate often enough to be both annoying and effective at solving cases. He never had been convinced of the "psychic" part of it all, but it hardly mattered anymore. The concrete results were the important thing, and he knew, however grudgingly, that Spencer produced results. But when he used his "talents" to stick his nose into police business where it most certainly didn't belong, he was going too far. Lassiter had no problem with Spencer throwing a wrench into the works of bad guys and their criminal plans, but police business was off-limits. And when it was his own partner whose case might be compromised, possibly putting her in danger, he took it personally.

After a couple of minutes, he saw the bell tower. He scanned the area and considered the list of businesses in the vicinity that he could remember. The bell had sounded somewhat faint, so Lassiter took a wide loop around the area. There was a small mall, a scattering of apartment buildings, two tiny parks with a handful of kids and adults. As he drove, he scanned alertly, evaluating every pedestrian and taking note of all motorcycles in hopes of spotting Spencer's. He continued circling around the tower, approaching an area near the water that was dominated by boatyards and the large, hanger-like buildings used to store and repair the boats. He slowed the car. There was very little traffic, and the boatyards appeared mostly abandoned. It seemed like the perfect setting for suspicious business. His eyes swept over a small side road that led to another boatyard building, surrounded by various boats, parts and other clutter. He stomped on the brakes and turned slightly to look back, something his eyes had glanced over finally registering in his brain. Sitting up against the shadowed side of a garage near the road was Spencer's motorcycle. His heart gave a few extra hops and he grinned with triumph.

Lassiter backed up and parked his car alongside the garage, blocking the motorcycle in. At least, Shawn would have to do some work to get it clear for riding. He got out and looked around, trying to figure out where the psychic had gone. He gazed down the small side road leading to the large boatyard building. The front of the building would logically face the water, so this small road apparently led to the rear of the structure. And what better way to sneak around and spy than entering from the back door? He walked down the road, peering from side to side at the clutter that littered the backyard of the building, the repository of the least useful parts and scraps of the boats and yachts that were repaired here, it seemed. His gun felt heavy in its holster and his hand itched to draw the weapon, but he reminded himself that he was just tracking down Spencer and not some dangerous criminal. The building loomed ahead, larger than it looked even from the main road's short distance. It reminded him of an airplane hangar or warehouse. It had to be large enough to house the expensive yachts that needed cleaned or repaired, he supposed. He spotted a regular door near the corner of the back wall, next to two tall garage-type doors. When he reached the door, he paused, listening for anything, but the door was too heavy to leak any sounds from inside and the outside of the building was deathly silent. The only sounds were the occasional ring of the tower bell on the quarter hours and a faint hush of the water on the far side of the building.

He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his inner coat pocket as he debated about entering. Technically, it would be trespassing, but if Spencer was inside, then he'd be stopping Shawn from committing that very infraction. And if he'd guessed wrong and Spencer wasn't here, he could just flash his badge and explain that he'd been looking for a suspicious character and was very sorry for the inconvenience. Because, really, he had so very many suspicions about Spencer, that it wouldn't technically be a lie. And at this point, what did it matter if there was one more thing for the chief to be mad about? He gripped the door handle and twisted. It was unlocked. He cracked the door and tried to peer inside, but the interior was too dark compared to the bright daylight outside. He looked around one more time, and then entered the building, holding the door so it closed quietly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Juliet was uncomfortable, in so many ways. She couldn't remember being this uncomfortable since suffering through the results of bringing Lassiter home for Christmas. The thought of Lassiter gave her a quick pang of guilt. She'd been excited and honored when Chief Vick had told her she was needed by the special task force for this sting. But when she'd told Lassiter what details she could, which were very few, she could tell how disappointed he was deep down that he couldn't be involved, even though he'd been smiling and encouraging on the outside. Now, she missed having her partner to rely on and to confide in. For all of his rough edges, she would much rather be sitting in a car with Lassiter than with the man she was accompanying now. She shifted in the front seat of the car, gazing out the windshield while out of the corner of her eye noticing that Jason was staring at her again. She sighed inwardly but made sure to keep her expression neutral.

"You look nervous, Jen. Don't worry, this'll go smooth. You're doing great," said Jason, smiling warmly.

Juliet smiled back and nodded, feeling a tingle down her spine at the compliment being paid her by the nephew of San Francisco's biggest crime lord. She wasn't particularly frightened. The guy had so far proven to be fairly harmless and a rather inept criminal. The sting she was a part of was mostly trying to net him and his cronies in order to gain leverage on his uncle back in San Francisco. The task force was hoping Jason would have dirt on his uncle or would have connections to exploit. The biggest discomfort she was currently suffering was the sudden infatuation Jason had developed for her over the past couple of days. She was only supposed to be playing a minor role in both the crime and the sting on the criminals, but with Jason's extra attention, she was being involved in more of the action than they had planned for. The task force was trying to adjust accordingly.

The operation had begun in San Francisco, where Jason and his two friends Huey and Bob had been showing interest in joining the family business by setting up a jewel theft ring. There had been a lot of news coverage about an international ring of thieves targeting jewelry wholesalers in the L.A area, and Jason and his friends had apparently thought it would be cool and exciting to do something similar. The task force had been monitoring Jason, looking for signs of criminal leanings. When he'd finally shown the inclinations, they'd jumped at the chance to set him up since he was obviously the weakest link in the criminal organization. The three young men had started casing the jewelry store chain of Vernon Barnes Fine Jewelry and following various employees. They were trying to mimic the tactics of the highly disciplined Colombian ring that targeted wholesalers carrying large amounts of jewelry to and from trade shows. The Colombians would follow a wholesaler and spring an ambush in a remote area. Jason and his crew had been trying to figure out the Vernon Barnes wholesalers and their travel patterns. Unfortunately for them, the Vernon Barnes chain didn't actually use wholesalers who carried large amounts of jewelry. They had transferred much of their business to the internet. Except for the chain of storefronts in San Francisco, Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, they didn't show jewelry anywhere except online. Fortunately for the task force, though, that provided a convenient opening for the sting.

Jason had contacted a shady character in San Francisco known for specializing in jewelry fencing. He was also an informant for the San Francisco police department. The police had the informant feed Jason bogus information about a wholesaler who regularly traveled from Santa Barbara to San Francisco, transporting jewelry. One of the task force officers, Frank, was posing as the Vernon Barnes wholesaler. They assumed, correctly, that Jason and friends would follow Frank to Santa Barbara at some point intending to ambush him. They had decided to set up the sting in Santa Barbara to remove Jason from his comfort zone and support system in San Francisco. The informant had given Jason the name of a jewelry store employee in Santa Barbara who worked with the wholesaler regularly, but who was also involved in trafficking stolen jewelry on the side, a woman named Jen. The task force had reviewed the files of the Santa Barbara police, looking for a suitable officer with undercover experience to play the role of Jen, and Juliet had fit the part perfectly.

"The guy should be here any minute, now, right?" asked Jason.

"Um, yeah," said Juliet. "He said he was going to check in with his friend who transports jewelry from San Diego. There's some arriving tomorrow that he's scheduled to pick up for the shipment back to San Francisco."

"Awesome. This is a perfect dry run for us then," said Jason, flashing her yet another smile. "Say, when we get all of this done, you should think about coming to San Francisco. We could use you in our, um, new operations."

"Wow, that sounds really amazing," said Juliet, trying to toe the line of sounding interested and impressed without going overboard. She didn't need this guy getting the idea that he could start pawing at her right here in the car. She wasn't wearing a wire for this excursion since the main action was going to happen the next day, but she still didn't want to deal with an overly amorous criminal in the middle of the operation. She cooled her smile and looked out at the boatyard. "So, do you think this will be the place?"

"Yeah, for sure. It's perfect. There's hardly anyone around. We'll be here and Huey and Bob will come in from the other side," he said, pointing to where the two cronies were sitting in a car on the other side of the street near the boatyard building.

The plan for the next day was to wait for the wholesaler to retrieve the jewels from the small receiving office in the building. When he came out again, Jason would approach from one side while his friends moved in from behind. Then Huey and Bob would surprise him and get the jewelry. They would all retreat and drive away before he had a chance to get help. It wasn't fancy, but it would be effective enough if there wasn't going to be a half dozen law enforcement officers there as well, ready to spring. Juliet was glad that it would all be finished the next day. She was weary of this role and these hoodlums. Jason's attentions were tiresome and discomforting. Huey always seemed jumpy and ultra-suspicious, which had caused her some concern at first, but he was mostly just a coward and not insightful enough to actually suspect her. Bob was the muscle, and that's all there was to Bob. She sighed and thought longingly of filling out reports at the station or riding to a crime scene with Lassiter. She missed her partner and the familiar routine and couldn't wait to bust more bad guys the straightforward way. She'd realized over the past few years that undercover work wasn't her thing.

"Don't worry about it," he said again, mistaking her sigh for nerves. "It's so cool he offered to show you around this place today. We get to scope it all out now and tomorrow it goes smooth as silk." He started to reach out a hand to touch hers, but she caught the motion and pulled her hand away pretending to look at her watch.

"He should be here any minute. Do you see him?"

"Um," Jason looked around. "Yeah, there he is."

Frank, the undercover officer posing as the wholesaler, pulled his car up to the boatyard building. Juliet really had spoken with Frank earlier, but it had been at the station where they had coordinated the activities for the day and checked their stories. Juliet had also nearly forgotten to leave her cell phone in her locker, and she'd run back to do that when Shawn had cornered her. She could tell how confused and curious he was about her case, and she felt bad having to blow him off the way she did. At least it would all be wrapped up soon and she'd be able to talk and joke with Shawn like normal.

"Okay, I'll be back in a little while, I guess," she said as they watched Frank enter the building. She started to get out of the car when Jason put his hand on her arm. Her heartbeat skipped, but she just looked at him with eyebrows raised.

"Just be cool. It's no big deal," he said with an encouraging tone tinged with a warning.

"Yeah, no problem." She gave him a smile of confidence and then crossed the road. As she approached the building, it almost seemed to grow taller, looming over her. It was such a huge structure. For a moment, she wondered if she could get lost in it, but Frank had told her the small office was just inside the front door, so she didn't have to try to find her way through the cavernous, and cluttered, interior. Nonetheless, she felt a small shiver crawl down her spine as she reached the shadow of the building and opened the door.

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Shawn felt a flutter in his stomach and realized wryly that he'd gotten indigestion from imaginary cake. He had really landed himself in the middle of a mess. After leaving the police station, he'd driven his bike straight to the Vernon Barnes Fine Jewelry store. The leather case the man with Juliet had been holding held the initials "VB" and looked like a travel case for jewelry. Putting that together with the way Juliet was dressed, which had been just right for a salesperson in a high-end jewelry store, he'd guessed she was involved in something having to do with jewelry theft, trafficking or counterfeiting. He knew the Vernon Barnes chain was in town. When he'd watched her get dropped off at the jewelry store by the guy from the station, he'd felt that irritating tightness between his shoulder blades disappear in a wave of triumph. To celebrate, and yes, maybe to show off a little bit, he'd decided he was going to go into the store and talk to her. Of course, he would pose as a customer and maintain her cover, but he just couldn't resist the urge to, as Lassiter put it, stick his nose in the pie. Or was it cake? As his thoughts wandered that pleasant route, he was surprised to see Juliet emerge from the store after just a few minutes and get into another car that had pulled up to the front. He'd been able to get back on the road and follow the car, ending up at the boatyards.

When the car had stopped across the road from the largest boatyard building, he'd pulled his bike around to park in back. That was when Lassiter had called the first time. Shawn had rolled his eyes and ignored the call. He'd wanted to walk back to the boatyard access road and try to get a view of Juliet's car, just to see what they could be up to parked in this mostly deserted area. His phone had gone off again as he was reaching the access road. He'd started to walk towards the large building, peering into the distance to try and make out Juliet's car, when he'd noticed another dark sedan, like the one the man from the station had driven, tucked into a shady, recessed area on the other side of the road. He'd paused then to observe it. There were two men inside who seemed to also be watching the large building down the street. He shook his head and wondered why the police always used the same kinds of cars, even during undercover operations. These guys had to be the support escort for Juliet and the other undercover officer. They needed more lessons in inconspicuousness. Or was that inconspicuosity? His phone had started ringing again at that point, and he'd decided to get it over with. He'd stood in the shadows of the structure next to the large boatyard building while watching the two cops and needling Lassiter on the phone. As soon as he'd hung up on Lassiter, his phone battery gave up its last gasp and blinked off. The Gus voice in his head nagged at him about always forgetting to charge it.

He had paused then, admitting to himself that he'd gone as far as he should go with the game. He'd found Juliet and had figured out, at least basically, what she was working on. He really didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the operation. He would've gone into the jewelry store to tease her a bit, because it would've been a safe enough thing to do. But out here in the deserted boatyard he was flirting with disaster. It was time to find something else to do. Gus would be done with enough of his appointments that day, so he'd decided to enlist his help in avoiding Lassiter and the chief for the rest of the day. Maybe they could take a quick trip somewhere outside of SBPD jurisdiction in case Lassie decided to put out a BOLO for him.

Just as he'd decided to leave, he'd seen the other car with Juliet's fellow undercover officer, drive past on its way to the large building. Then, just moments later, two large SUVs had pulled up to the police sedan, one on the side and one right behind, and then several men had jumped out of both trucks. He'd realized with a physical shock that they were attacking the two officers in the car. There were at least six men in the two SUVs, maybe more. He'd sunk himself back into the shadows of the building as much as possible while watching the attackers order the officers out of the car at gun point. They had then cuffed the two men and closed them up in the sedan's trunk. Shawn had shivered at the thought of being closed up in a trunk, memories of such an ordeal still too fresh in his mind. And that's when the panic had finally set in. Something terribly wrong was happening with Juliet's operation, and he might be the only one who knew about it. He'd realized he needed to get help, so he'd backed carefully through the shadows until he could run for his bike. And there, blocking in his bike, was Lassie's Crown Vic. Lassie had been totally right...he couldn't have his cake and eat it too.

Shawn felt the oddest confluence of emotions then. He was angry that his bike was trapped, he was relieved that help was at hand, but he was also irritated that Lassie wasn't right there and had apparently wandered off somewhere. He needed to find the detective and let him know what was happening, and he knew Lassie's phone was working so that they could summon backup. Oddly enough, he also felt slightly chagrined that Lassie had managed to track him down, and that he wasn't even sure how the detective had managed it.

He looked around, feeling the tightness between his shoulder blades returned tenfold. "Dammit, Lassie, where'd you go?" He gazed down the small access road at the back of the building and felt a sinking feeling. "Oh, no."

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter felt like he'd walked into a marine craft graveyard. It was almost creepy. There was a gutted yacht hull propped up with blocks and supports that dominated the floor space nearest the back door he'd entered. Next to the hull, there was a large crane contraption holding up a 40 foot yacht about 15 feet in the air to accommodate the keel. Beyond that was an expanse of stacked crates and boxes, and then the far wall in the distance to his right held a shelf system holding at least twenty smaller, recreational boats stacked four high. In between everything he could see from where he stood was just a clutter of parts, stacks of wood, crates and other items all crammed into the cavernous space with only a few cleared lanes presumably for vehicles to access. He saw a large forklift near one of the garage doors, and beyond the hull he saw the roof of another forklift or tractor. On the wall to his left was a walkway system raised up about twelve feet that allowed a better view of the whole building. He could see a set of wooden steps that led up to the walkway which then spanned the whole wall and ended at the front corner of the building in a small, enclosed area. He could just make out that the enclosed area also extended to the ground at the front corner of the building. It was probably some kind of two-story interior office. He wandered forward between the hull and the wall, skirting two large boxes sitting on wooden pallets. They were at least twice as big as refrigerator boxes, and he wondered at their contents. Six large shelving units were tucked partly under the raised walkway, holding boxes and parts wrapped in plastic. He paused and looked at the stained, partial 30 foot hull, trying to decide if it was being reconstructed or dismantled.

Now that he was inside the eerily silent, massive space, he started feeling a strong, nagging doubt that he should've entered at all. The building was apparently empty, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was some kind of boatyard holiday. If Spencer was inside, he was being unnaturally quiet. Lassiter had just started considering going back outside to look elsewhere when he heard a noise from the distant front of the building and a murmuring that sounded like voices. One of the voices sounded distinctly higher-pitched, too. If Spencer had been right, then those voices were probably people involved in Juliet's undercover operation, and the one was probably Juliet herself. He felt a jolt of panic at the thought that he could ruin the sting if he was seen. A vision of an angry, and even worse a disappointed, O'Hara flashed in his mind. He turned back to the door, determined to beat a hasty retreat. Whatever Spencer was doing, it wasn't worth sabotaging Juliet's case to find out. He would just go back to the station and face the chief's wrath alone. As he approached the two large mystery boxes he heard the back door open. His heart thudded in his chest painfully a couple of times. Making a split-second decision, he ducked behind one of the large boxes and realized peripherally that his hand had reached under his coat to unclip his weapon. He held his breath.

"Lassie?" came the harsh whisper. "Lassie?"

Lassiter sighed and stepped around the box as Shawn came around the other side of it. "Spencer, what the hell?" rasped Lassiter, keeping his voice to a rough whisper too. "I've been looking for you."

Shawn startled at Lassiter's appearance, throwing his hands out in front of him in a warding gesture for a moment until recognition set in. "Oh, thank goodness, Lassie!"

The relief in Spencer's voice threw him off. "Excuse me?"

"Lassie, there's something really bad going down here."

"My partner's undercover operation is going down here, and I'm not going to let us ruin it," he growled, grabbing hold of Spencer's arm and guiding him towards the back door. "Let's get out of here, now!"

"No!

"What?"

"I mean yes, let's get out of here," said Shawn as he started to move faster than the detective, pulling him along.

Lassiter let go of Shawn's arm and paused, looking at him as if he'd grown another set of eyes.

"What are you waiting for? We need to get out of here!"

Lassiter's face scrunched up in annoyed confusion. "That's kinda of what I'm trying to do," he hissed.

"But, you don't understand! There are some bad guys, with some kind of Spanish accent, attacking the cops!"

Lassiter tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "You're kidding, right? Is this some kind of joke to you?"

Shawn started bouncing on his toes and growled with aggravation. "No, I'm not kidding. I just saw them ambush Juliet's escort. Six or eight guys in two SUVs. Do you want their license numbers?"

Lassiter blinked in confusion, "I don't understand."

"Juliet's doing something with jewel thieves. The sting is probably happening here, I guess. But now there are some other guys crashing the party. Come on, Lassie!"

"Someone just came in the front door," said Lassiter faintly, eyes widened with shock as the implications of what Shawn had said sank in. His brain was trying desperately to process all of the new information, but one concern that was crystal clear for him was his partner's safety. "I think I heard O'Hara's voice."

Shawn gazed towards the front of the building, torn between wanting to escape the building and call in the cavalry and wanting to make sure Juliet didn't get caught in whatever weird crossfire was about to go down.

"You need to call for help," he whispered even more quietly now that he knew others were in the building, even though they were still probably 60 yards away or so.

"You didn't call when you saw what happened?"

"Dead battery. I think you killed it with your nagging."

Lassiter sighed and pulled out his phone, glancing towards the front of the building as well. He opened his phone and started to dial when he froze, a puzzled expression dawning on his face. "No signal. That's weird."

"What?" gasped Shawn, grabbing the phone out of Lassiter's hand. He looked at the phone, then he looked back at Lassiter and they just stared at each other for a moment. "I'm going to see if I can find Juliet," said Shawn, handing the phone back.

"How?"

"I don't know. I'm just going to go up there and see if I can figure out what's happening. Maybe I can signal her somehow," said Shawn turning towards the wooden steps leading up to the walkway.

"Spencer!" he hissed, trying to object. He didn't need a civilian getting mixed up even further in whatever mess they'd both stumbled upon.

"Lassie, I'm just going to look," said Shawn. Lassiter sighed, not sure how he could stop him anyway. When Shawn got something in his head, he was almost impossible to deter. He certainly couldn't afford to get into a wrestling match with him to drag him physically out of the building.

"Just be careful, and stay out of sight, dammit. I'll go try the radio in my car. If you can't see anything from up there, you come outside," he said.

"Yes! Good," said Shawn, waving a hand dismissively as he ran to the steps and started up them.

Lassiter turned to the door and tried to imagine what he would say on the call. _"Hey, I'm calling for backup on an operation I'm not involved in and which I'm not even supposed to know anything about, but I happen to be here anyway, and oh by the way some Spanish-speaking mystery men are attacking undercover officers, but no I didn't see it myself because I'm just calling on behalf of our department psychic." _He had just started to move around the large box when he heard the door open again. His heart thudded painfully once more as he ducked for cover. His eyes flew up to the walkway. Shawn had heard the door, too, and had dropped to his belly on the walkway. Lassiter's hand went to his gun as before, only this time he pulled it out. Footsteps. He leaned slightly to look around the edge of the box and saw a man walking towards the stairway. He could see a gun in the front of the man's waistband. The guy would see Spencer as soon as he'd climbed the steps.

"Freeze, police!" growled Lassiter as he stepped out from behind the box, gun raised.

The man had reached the base of the steps and jerked almost comically with surprise. He put a hand on the gun in his waistband as he swung around to face Lassiter.

"Don't do it!"

The man stared at him, eyes wide, for a moment, then he let out a bark of frustration and raised his hands. "Who the hell are you?"

"SBPD. Get on the ground," said Lassiter as he started to approach.

"But why are you here?" he whined, looking around suspiciously as if expecting more cops to jump out of the woodwork. Lassiter wished that could be so.

"Just get on the ground," said Lassiter again as he took another step towards the man.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Shawn was still lying on his belly and was now at the edge of the walkway, watching the action. That brief moment of inattention cost him, though. The man suddenly lunged for the first set of shelves tucked under the walkway and grabbed a box from it which he flung at Lassiter in one smooth motion. Lassiter dodged the box and it crashed to the floor with a loud clattering, sounding like it was full of small metal parts. The man charged Lassiter and grabbed his right hand, pushing it, and his gun, away. They grappled for a few moments, stumbling across the floor until they were close to the gutted hull as each man tried to get leverage over the other. Lassiter braced himself and surged forward, pushing with all of his might. The man lost his balance and fell backwards, then scrambled quickly between two of the shelves under the walkway before Lassiter could bring his weapon to bear again. He cursed under his breath and tried to peer through the items on the shelves to catch any movement. Once again, he glanced up at the walkway and saw Shawn trying to peer through the boards to see underneath. He looked down at Lassiter and pointed forward, as if asking if he should crawl further along to find the attacker, but Lassiter shook his head. If Shawn started moving around, the guy might hear it and start firing through the walkway boards.

Lassiter moved to stand with his left shoulder to end of the nearest shelf, then with gun raised he leaned quickly to look around the edge, ducking back again just in case. No one was there. He leaned to look around again and realized that the shelves weren't flush with the wall under the walkway. There was enough space for a person to squeeze through to the next opening between shelves. He cursed quietly again. This whole damn thing had turned too hairy, too quick. He held his gun ready and surged around the edge of the shelf and walked slowly down the path, keeping his eyes and his gun forward but using his peripheral vision to try and detect any movement coming from the next pathway over. He reached the end and jumped into the space between the wall and the back edge of the shelves. Still no sign of the man. He felt the familiar slight tremble in his arms as his adrenalin levels started to fluctuate, and he paused for the barest moment to take a steadying breath. He crept forward and glanced quickly down the next pathway. Nothing. He moved to the next and swung around the edge of the shelf in time to catch a hint of movement at the far end that opened into the cavernous room. His brain uttered a stream of curses echoed on his face only by a tight grimace. He glanced upwards, trying to locate Spencer, but the walkway boards were too tightly joined.

He listened for a few moments, hearing only a brief shuffling noise at the end of the shelves. It sounded like he'd flushed the guy back out into the open, but now he was the one stuck in the weeds, so to speak. He stepped sideways into the next pathway, then he crept forward, towards the open room. When he was almost to the end, he suddenly heard a flurry of noises. There was a creak from above, although he couldn't tell if it was Spencer moving on the walkway or the wood just settling. There was a distinct sound of footsteps, but he couldn't tell from which direction or if it was even only one set of footsteps or more than one. He also thought he heard a hiss of speech, and wondered if he suddenly had more than a single bad guy to deal with. Just keeps getting better, he thought grimly, but there was nothing else for it. He took a deep breath and surged out from between the shelves, pivoting to his left. Before he could focus, he saw a figure standing there and aimed his gun center mass as he opened his mouth to yell out his standard police identification. But the words died in his throat and a wave of ice washed through him, leaving him breathless. He was holding his gun on Juliet O'Hara. And she was aiming a gun at him.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Juliet couldn't keep the shock off of her face, but she tried to recover as quickly as possible. She wondered if her eyes were popping out of her skull as much as Lassiter's appeared to be. He lowered his weapon and opened his mouth to say something, and her already pounding heart added a few skips. If he said her name, her cover would be blown. Not that his showing up here, for whatever inconceivable reasons, might not have already done that, but for now she knew she had to play this scene out. She tried to mentally scream at him to not speak. Luckily, or horrifyingly, or both, Huey emerged from behind Lassiter and placed a knife against her partner's throat.

"Don't move," said Huey in Lassiter's ear. He was gripping his collar with his left hand, pulling enough to make him lean backwards slightly, as he held the 4 inch blade to the side of his neck. "Don't speak."

Lassiter's head was tilted back a bit now, but his eyes stayed on Juliet, the utter shock in them now replaced with a look of desolation tinged with fear. Juliet felt her stomach flip and grow cold. For a moment, she wasn't entirely sure Huey wouldn't make the cut. But he really was a coward deep down, as she'd learned over the past few days. He didn't have the guts to knife someone to death. She fought to keep her expression appropriate, but for the briefest of moments she tried to let a look of reassurance and empathy get through to her partner. Later, when she finally learned why he was here at all, she would indulge in a massive fit of anger, but for now she had to see them both through this.

"Get his gun, Jen."

She tore here eyes away from Lassiter's and nodded at Huey, hoping her expression only relayed surprise and anxiety, and not recognition. She lowered her weapon and reached out to take Lassiter's from his hands. She put her hand over top of his for a brief moment, trying to convey support. She wasn't sure if it was his hand or hers that was slightly trembling. "Okay," she said with a shake to her voice. "I have it."

"Great," said Huey. "And since when do you carry a gun? Jesus."

"My brother was in the Army, taught me how to use one," she said with a shrug, falling back on the rule that a half-truth was the easiest lie to tell. "A girl's gotta be careful, right?"

The back door opened and a large man walked quickly to join them. "What the hell is this?" he asked.

"It's a cop, Bob," growled Huey. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I was doing the...y'know," said Bob with a nervous glance at Juliet. "Why is a cop here? Is..."

"I don't know!" hissed Huey, cutting off the larger man. "Just get his stuff, clean out his pockets, we gotta figure some things out here. Put those cuffs on him too."

Bob retrieved Lassiter's phone, keys and cuffs and then cuffed his hands in front, ignoring the detective's death glare. He mumbled, "Always wanted to do this to a cop."

Juliet raised her eyebrows and regarded the two men carefully as she put her weapon back in her waistband. She started to do the same with Lassiter's gun, but Huey spotted her. "Jen, give the cop's gun to Bob," he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

She just shrugged and handed Lassiter's gun over. She wondered about the two men, something about the situation feeling off. She'd chalked that feeling up to her partner's intrusion, but now she wondered if something else was happening. Huey and Bob seemed to be especially nervous today, even before the bizarre appearance of her partner, and she wondered why. It was only supposed to be a run-through for the robbery. Why would they be so anxious about that? She suddenly felt like just scrapping the whole operation right then and arresting both men for assault against a police officer, but now that Lassiter was unarmed and restrained, the odds were against her. She decided she had to let the situation play out a bit more until there was an opportunity to free her partner.

Huey lowered the knife and put it away as he moved around to stand in front of Lassiter. Bob stayed at Lassiter's side and gripped his right arm with one meaty hand. "Okay, cop, what are you doing here?" asked Huey.

Lassiter cleared his throat. "I was, uh, patrolling the area. I saw a suspicious character sneaking around some of the buildings outside," he said, meeting Juliet's eyes for a moment with a meaningful look. Then he moved his eyes away and continued. "There have been robberies in this area lately. I thought he came in here, but obviously, I was wrong." He looked at Juliet again and then raised his eyes as if rolling them, but she noticed his gaze seemed to settle on the walkway for an extra beat.

Shawn. She should've known. Lassiter would never, ever, risk a police operation, unless he was trying to prevent someone else from doing so. Although, she had never thought Shawn would knowingly risk an undercover operation either. There must be more happening than she realized. If Shawn was here, though, he might be able to help her get Carlton free. Lassiter fidgeted, causing Bob to give him small shake. He flicked a glance at her again. He looked worried, and he seemed to be trying to tell her something in his look.

"Wow," said Huey. "You're one unlucky cop then."

"Look," said Lassiter. "I don't know who you people are, or what you're up to here, but it's obviously against the law. Your best bet is to just stop, right now. Let me go, and turn yourselves in."

"Um, yeah, anyway," said Huey with a roll of his eyes. He turned to Juliet. "Where's that guy? Did he hear any of this?"

"Frank? No, he left right before I heard the commotion back here. I came back to see what was happening. Why are you two back here?"

"Why do you have a gun?" asked Bob.

Lassiter raised his eyebrows as he looked from crook to crook.

Juliet sighed. "I told Huey, my brother is in the Army. Anyway, why were you guys back here? That wasn't part of the plan."

"Just chill out, Jen, don't worry about it," said Huey, waving his hand at her dismissively. "Where's Jason now?"

Juliet shrugged. "He was waiting outside until Frank left. I don't know why he hasn't come in yet," she said. She quietly seethed at Huey's treatment, but she'd been playing the role of the submissive lackey, for the most part, so she kept her feelings to herself. She caught Lassiter looking at her again, brow furrowed in consternation. She tried to decipher his gaze. Sometimes, now that they'd been partners for a few years, it almost felt like she could read his mind, but unfortunately now wasn't one of those times. She looked away again, afraid of drawing Huey's attention.

She turned towards the front office as if to look for Jason. As she turned, she glanced up at the wooden walkway, trying to catch a glimpse of Shawn but saw no sign of him. There was also no sign of Jason. He was supposed to follow her inside once Frank had left. She was surprised to find herself actually hoping he came in soon. Except for the puppy-dog infatuation he had with her, he was easier to deal with than the other two men. He would be easier to manipulate in order to get Lassiter out of there safely. She was afraid Huey might want to take a more drastic approach to the situation now that Bob was here. Where Huey lacked the guts to do violence himself, he made up for it in enthusiastically ordering Bob to do it. She turned back, waving vaguely at Lassiter, and said, "I think we should cuff him to that railing, find Jason and just get out. He doesn't know anything about this. We can find a new place."

Huey gave Bob a meaningful look and an almost imperceptible nod, and then he said, "No need for that. Just let us worry about him. Why don't you go up to the office and look for Jason?"

She narrowed her eyes and let an edge creep into her voice. "I don't think that's a good idea, for any of us."

"I didn't ask what you think," said Huey with an annoyed whine.

Lassiter cleared his throat. "The, uh, lady here sounds pretty smart. I think you should listen to her."

Bob grabbed a handful of Lassiter's collar at the base of his neck and gave him a hard shake. "Shut your trap," he growled.

There was a loud bang from the front of the building and the muffled sound of a yell. They all jumped at the noises. Juliet noticed Bob and Huey exchange an odd look, Bob's seeming to ask a question and Huey's seeming to be a confused shrug. Huey pulled out his gun and started to sidestep towards the back door while craning his neck to look to the front entrance. When he was next to Lassiter, on the opposite side from Bob, he placed the muzzle of his gun under Lassiter's chin.

"I thought you said you were here alone, looking for some punk," he hissed.

Lassiter grimaced. "That's right."

"Then what the hell's going on up front?"

"I have no idea," said Lassiter through clenched teeth.

"Sonofabitch."

"Want me to go check?" asked Bob.

"Yeah, take Jen," he said as he lowered his gun again. "You two see what's going on. Give me these cuff keys."

Juliet's eyes widened. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll be along. I'm going to cuff him here, like you said, until we figure this out. If something bad is going down, we can get out this way and leave him for whoever the hell is shooting guns up there."

Huey made a quick run to the back door, opening it to check outside. He came back to take the handcuff keys from Bob. Juliet hazarded a glance at Lassiter and saw his expression soften for a moment as he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. He was telling her to continue playing the part. She pursed her lips and sighed, wondering what she and Bob might be walking into. She hoped, of course, that it was just the escort officers jumping in for whatever reason and arresting Jason, because otherwise it meant that something was going horribly wrong with the operation. She had a sinking feeling, though, that it was the latter possibility. Lassiter might actually have the better part of this situation, oddly enough.

"Go," said Huey. "I'll follow in a few minutes, or I'll be here to cover you if I see you come running."

"Big shock," said Bob dryly. He'd shown no hesitance in openly mocking Huey's cowardice over the last few days, which had amused Juliet. Now, it just added to her anxiety. Bob started to walk slowly towards the front of the massive building with Juliet in tow.

Juliet cast one last, worried glance over her shoulder at Lassiter and Huey before turning away. She put her hand on the gun in her waistband as she walked. For a brief moment, she thought she caught a blur of movement on the walkway above, but she didn't see anything when she looked again. If it was Shawn, she hoped he could do something to help Lassiter, or she hoped he could at least get away and get help.

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Shawn was starting to feel like an extra from a bad military boot camp movie that was focused solely on the characters doing that belly-crawl thing under the barbed wire. He decided the movie would be called "Raw Privates." He was pretty sure he'd gained at least a dozen splinters in his arms and knees, and elsewhere. Of course, in Army movies, the poor slobs were usually crawling through mud. He thought mud sounded really nice right then. He was crawling towards the back of the building again to see if he could do anything in Southern We're-So-Screwedistan. He'd watched the crazy scene with Lassiter wrestling Huey and ending up having a showdown with Juliet, no less, during which he'd had to put both hands over his mouth to keep some choice words and possibly even some high-pitched whimpers from escaping. In the future, he hoped dearly that he would be able to recount the scene to Gus over a bag of Doritos, but first he had to survive. And he had to make sure Lassie and Jules survived too, because it would be no fun at all to mock them if they died horribly. He'd picked an opportune moment after the main action had ended to crawl to the frontal "Northern" reaches of the building, a region he was dubbing OMG-This-Blows-ville. When he'd reached the two-story office, he'd entered and scanned for anything useful, but the second level area seemed to be only used for storage and as the employee break room. There was even a small cot for employee nap time, apparently. A steep set of stairs led to the first level, and he'd gingerly descended them to find the main part of the office. There was a small safe tucked under one of the counters, but it was closed and locked. However, on the floor next to the safe was the leather jewelry case with the initials VB. Shawn had dropped to his knees and opened the case, but it was empty.

At that point, he'd heard the sound of tires outside. He'd moved over to the small, dirty window and had seen one of the big SUVs braking to a halt outside. The guy who had picked Juliet up at the jewelry store was walking towards the building and had to dive out of the way of the big truck. Then some of the guys had jumped out of the truck and run over to tackle him. The guy had managed to pull out a gun, but one of the burly attackers had grabbed his arm and pushed it up so the gun had only fired into the air. Then they'd proceeded to smack the guy around. Shawn had decided that maybe the Southern reaches of the building were looking better and better. On a whim, he'd grabbed the leather case then had climbed the steps and started the long, painful crawl to the back door.

Halfway back, he saw the gigantic dude and Juliet walking to the front, probably to check out the gunfire. His stomach flopped at the sight of Juliet, heading into the hands of the SUV goons. He tried to think of some way to warn her, but the big guy with her would see or hear anything he did. He just had to hope she'd be okay until he could figure out how to help her properly. And the best way to help Juliet was probably to help Lassiter, because now he knew the detective was only being guarded by Huey again. Two against one was better odds than anything else going. He sighed and crawled faster toward the back steps, trying to figure out how he might be able to free Lassiter.

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter watched Huey with narrowed eyes, studying him. He relaxed the tension in his shoulders, trying to stay loose so he'd be ready for any opening the nervous crook presented. Huey was holding the gun on him, and was keeping far enough away to make any lunges too dangerous still, but he was also getting obviously more and more agitated and was jumping at the smallest noises. Lassiter followed his orders but took as long as he could, hoping to draw out the man's agitation and create the opening he needed.

"Dammit, move! Get over there and get on your knees!" hissed Huey, waving his gun at Lassiter in the general direction of the wooden steps. He was trying to get Lassiter to kneel next to the steps so he could cuff his hands through the railing.

Lassiter just glared. He'd reached the foot of the stairway, so he leaned over and kneeled on his left knee only, right foot still on the ground and hands holding the vertical post of the stairway railing. Huey tossed the cuff key onto the floor next to him.

"Just undo one of them," he said warningly.

Lassiter grimaced and bent over to pick up the key. It was awkward to unlock cuffs that were around your own hands, and he used that fact to full advantage. He fumbled with the key and dropped it.

"Shit," he said, to add to the effect.

"Come on, dumbass."

He picked up the key and tried again. From the corner of his eye he saw Huey craning his neck to look toward the front of the building, so he jammed the key home and twisted quickly. Then he pulled the key out again and dropped it, sighing dramatically.

Huey looked back at him sharply, then rolled his eyes. "Jesus, give me that!" he said as he stepped towards Lassiter and started to lean over.

Lassiter surged upwards, pushing off with his right foot and leaning his right shoulder into Huey's midsection as he slammed into him. His left hand came free of the cuffs and he grabbed for Huey's right arm, pushing it and the gun away. Once again, they were grappling. Lassiter stomped down on Huey's foot, and then swung a right hook, catching him squarely on the jaw. Huey fell backwards and the gun dropped to the ground and skidded across the floor near the boat hull. Lassiter started to run for the gun but Huey kicked out and caught the side of his right knee. He stumbled, trying to catch himself, and saw Huey scrambling on hands and knees for the gun again. Just as his hands were reaching out for it, Lassiter dove and tackled him. Their momentum knocked Huey's hands into the gun which pushed it further across the floor. It finally came to rest deep under the supports at the end of the gutted hull. Lassiter was trying to grab Huey's arms to pull them behind his back, but he didn't have enough leverage on the writhing man. Suddenly, Huey pushed up with his arms, knocking Lassiter mostly off of his back and off-balance, then he whipped his right elbow around and caught Lassiter's right cheek and nose with a hard blow. Lassiter fell onto his left side, dazed for a moment, eyes squeezed shut against the sting of his nose. When he opened his eyes he saw Huey looming over him and preparing a heavy kick, but then there was a blur of motion behind the crook. Huey jerked, grunted, and then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the floor next to Lassiter. Shawn was standing there holding a pipe and wearing an expression of shock, as if he'd surprised himself as well as Huey.

"Whoa," said Shawn as he lowered the pipe and let it drop to the floor.

"Oh, thank goodness, Spencer," mumbled Lassiter as he laid back flat for a moment and put his hands up to cradle his aching nose. The cuffs, still attached to his right wrist, bumped against his arm. "What took you so long?"

"Very funny, Lassitudinal," said Shawn leaning over to hold out his hand. "You need to get vertical. We have to leave, right now."

Lassiter reached up and took Shawn's hand to help stand. When he was upright, he felt a wave of dizziness and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead until it cleared. His right knee was also aching, but it held his weight. Shawn was pulling on his elbow.

"Come on. The SUV bad guys are here. I saw them out front," he hissed.

Lassiter squinted at him. "That was the gunfire?"

Shawn nodded grimly. "The guy Juliet was with, they jumped him. His gun went off. No one was hit."

"What are they doing?"

"I don't know. I didn't stick around to find out."

"Juliet's up there now," said Lassiter bleakly, looking towards the front of the building with an agonized expression.

"I know! But there's too many of them. We need to call in the cavalry."

Lassiter took a deep breath and nodded. "Right," he said, feeling a cold lump form in his stomach at the thought of leaving Juliet behind. He looked at the gun lying under the nearby hull as Shawn pulled harder on his elbow. He wanted to retrieve it, but it was under the hull, and he would have to crawl between the splayed out supports to be able to reach it, which would probably take too much time. As if to confirm his thoughts, there was another loud yell from the front of the building followed by a series of shouts in both English and Spanish.

"Detective!" hissed Shawn with an audible note of panic.

Lassiter turned and ran with Shawn to the back door. Sitting on the floor next to the door was a leather case. Shawn bent to retrieve it as he yanked the door open and ran outside. Lassiter had almost forgotten about the cuffs still dangling from his right wrist. They bumped his arm as he reached out to hold the door open. They had already run past the key which was lying near the foot of the stairway, but Shawn was outside now and he had some spare keys in his car anyway. Lassiter ran out on Shawn's heels and held his left hand up to shield the sudden brightness of the afternoon sun from his eyes. Despite his fear for Juliet, he felt a small rush of relief to be out of that building. And the sight of his car in the distance boosted his spirits even more. All they had to do was run the thirty yards or so down the access road and call for backup.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Juliet was trying to figure out how Shawn had known that these new thieves were going to come in and hijack Jason's theft attempt. Or maybe he hadn't known, because he'd told her once that he couldn't actually see the future, but then why had he shown up here at the boatyard? He wasn't supposed to have any information about her undercover case, at all. Even her partner knew almost nothing about it. Well, however he'd done it, Shawn once again amazed her with his ability to be right where he needed to be, or to see just what he needed to see, to help with a case. And right now, her case needed a whole lot of help.

She was sitting on the floor of the small office along with Jason and Frank. When she'd accompanied Bob to the front of the building, they'd arrived just in time to watch Jason get thrown inside, followed by Frank who had his hands cuffed and then the four strange men. Juliet had started to pull out her gun, but Bob had grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and had taken her gun away from her. She had stared at him in surprise, then had met the confused and angry eyes of Jason who was still lying in a heap on the floor, and finally she'd understood that the sting had been stung. Their mark's own men had betrayed him, and subsequently the police setting him up, to some even badder bad guys. The new arrivals had put her and Jason and Frank into the small office, with one man standing guard over them. They had figured out that Frank was an undercover police officer and had handcuffed him to a chair. She'd heard them talking about two other cops that they'd stuck in a trunk, and she hoped the escort officers weren't injured or worse. Luckily, they didn't seem to suspect her, yet, and they'd left her and Jason simply sitting on the floor with no restraints. The man who had been set to guard them was perched on the small stairway that led to the second level of the office.

She'd heard enough snatches of conversation between the new men to make some guesses about them. They spoke Spanish, but she was pretty sure they weren't Mexican because of their dialect. They seemed to be extremely organized and disciplined, acting with an almost military-like order. Their leader, one of them had called him Cesar, definitely had the bearing of a military officer. He even vaguely reminded her of Lassiter when he glared at the other men and barked out orders. From those observations, she felt pretty sure that these guys were part of a ring of jewelry thieves from Colombia who had been very active over the past year or so in and around Los Angeles. They were believed to be mostly ex-military and ex-police personnel who were adept at surveillance and strategy in committing their crimes. Apparently, they were making their way up the coast now, or maybe these guys had just been invited in by Bob and, she suspected, Huey. They had probably also been staking out the building in preparation for the shipment the next day. That's when they had most likely spotted the escort officers. She wondered, though, why they hadn't just bugged out when they'd seen that police were involved. Instead, they had attacked, which seemed to her a frighteningly aggressive response for disciplined thieves to take. It didn't bode well.

"I can't believe they did this to me," moped Jason. He'd been lamenting the betrayal of his friends since they'd been stuck in the room. "Why would they do this?"

"Just try to relax," she said.

"I'm going to kill Huey."

"If Huey's not careful, these guys might do it before you can. I think they are really bad news."

Jason nodded. "I think you're right. I've seen guys like these, up in San Fran, working for my..." he caught himself and flashed a guarded look at Juliet. "I've just seen guys like these."

She sighed and uncrossed her legs, stretching them out in front of her, then she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. Sitting on the hard floor was incredibly uncomfortable, and boring. She watched through the glass of the closed office door as Cesar spoke animatedly with Bob. He didn't seem at all happy, and he appeared to be asking Huey's whereabouts. Juliet was wondering that herself. He'd said he would be following them after a few minutes, but if he'd heard a commotion he might just as well have run out the back door. But, if he was working with the Colombians, why would he be afraid to come up to the front? Her heart fluttered with a rush of hope when she thought that perhaps, somehow, Lassiter had managed to overpower Huey and get free, maybe even with Shawn's help. If that was the case, and she hoped dearly that it was, it meant that they would be able to call in the cavalry.

"If these guys are who I think they are, your friends just grabbed a tiger by the tail," said Frank.

Jason sneered and said, "Man, you just shut up. I don't need a damned cop telling me anything. Maybe these guys did me a favor, taking you out before you had the chance to bust me."

Frank just rolled his eyes and shook his head. Juliet glanced his way, but avoided making eye contact, and she was pretty sure Frank was doing the same. She knew, and Frank knew, how lucky it was that they hadn't suspected her, too. Neither one of them wanted to jeopardize that advantage. She just hoped that it really did turn out to be an advantage. She gazed out of the office windows again at Cesar interrogating Bob. The Colombian was apparently intimidating the hell out of the large man, which was amazing. Bob was always the looming, threatening presence, and he backed it up with cold ruthlessness. Juliet wondered how the smaller man was managing it. She was pretty sure she didn't want to find out first hand, though. She tried to study Cesar from her limited vantage point. He was an inch or two shy of six feet, with short curly black hair peppered sparsely with white. His face bore several scars, and she could even see one on his neck. At one point, he turned to look in the office, pointing at them while saying something to Bob, and she saw that his eyes were black and cold, the calculating eyes of a predator. He noticed her watching, and his focus sharpened, making her jump slightly as she looked quickly away. Her heart fluttered for a moment as she studied her hands, hoping that he wasn't still looking at her. She wanted in no way to attract this man's attention, she was certain of that now.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Shawn's adrenalin was still pumping furiously through him as he ran out into the sunlight. This day had certainly not turned out the way he'd expected, and not in a good way at all. He looked back to make sure Lassie was still following. He was a little worried about the detective who had just endured two fairly intense fights and the experience of being a captive, captured by his own partner, no less. The guy was having a worse day, Shawn had to admit. He'd also taken a pretty hard elbow to the face in the last fight, so Shawn kept glancing back to make sure his wits were still about him and he was keeping up.

"Come on, Lassinator, we're almost there," he said as encouragement, although he knew his silly nicknames didn't particularly cheer up the detective. He shrugged mentally. Anger was an effective way to motivate someone, too.

They started down the small access road that joined the main street where the car and motorcycle were parked. The road was bordered with all kinds of scrap boat pieces, piles of wood and other junk. On his right, Shawn noticed four small dinghies stacked against a chain link fence. One of the boats was lying keel-up and the other three were leaning one on top of the other, looking as if they'd all been standing on their ends and had then been knocked over like dominoes. Beyond the fence, he could make out various boats dry-docked on trailers or propped up with supports.

Shawn looked down the road at Lassiter's car and his poor trapped bike, and then he paused as a sudden realization struck him. "Um, hey, Lassie. Did you lock your car?"

"Of course," said Lassiter as he drew even with Shawn, rubbing at his right wrist where the cuffs were dangling. After a split second, he had the same realization as Shawn and looked at his car with an anguished expression. "Oh, crap."

Shawn rolled his eyes and started looking around for a pipe or rock, wishing he'd kept hold of the pipe from the building. "Windows can be replaced, man. Don't sweat it."

The roar of a big engine reached them a second before the black SUV appeared at the end of the access road. It turned onto the road and coasted for a moment, as if the driver hadn't noticed them standing there, yet. Lassiter reached out and grabbed Shawn's arm as he began to backpedal towards the building again.

Shawn blinked, and said to no one in particular, "You gotta be kidding me." Then the SUV's engine revved and it started to accelerate down the road, straight towards them.

"Spencer! Move!" yelled Lassiter, dragging at his arm again as he turned to try and run.

Shawn's brain flashed through all of the possible scenarios for the next few moments, and none of them looked good. They couldn't outrun the big truck. He supposed it didn't hurt to try though, as he retreated along with Lassie. They both ran with their heads turned back to watch the truck. Suddenly Lassiter gave Shawn a massive shove, making him stumble and almost lose his footing. But it created some distance between them when Lassie veered off in the opposite direction. The truck adjusted so that it was centered on Lassiter. Shawn turned so that he was essentially running backwards for a moment, trying to see what happened next. The truck gained on the detective, but at the last moment, Lassie jumped up onto a stack of wooden pallets. The truck sideswiped the pallets, jolting them and sending Lassie flying to the ground on the other side. Then the truck turned and centered on Shawn.

"Um, toro?" mumbled Shawn as he stared at the oncoming, massive-looking grill.

He turned and saw the domino boats again, realizing there was a gap between them that he might be able to dive into. If he was a chipmunk, or even a dreaded raccoon, it would be a much easier fit, but he'd have to give it a try anyway. He realized, belatedly, that he was still carrying the leather jewelry case. He tossed it ahead of him, towards the boats. Then, he feinted towards the building and heard the truck tires digging into the scrabbly road surface. He veered sharply to his left and dove for the boats. The front half of his body fit just fine, but he had a couple more appendages he'd rather not lose, so he started to scramble and curl up into the small space behind the boat that was lying on the ground and under the boat that was leaning against it. The engine roared and he heard tires skidding, and then there was a sound of splintering wood. The whole world seemed to shudder and shift, and then everything went dark.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter had just started to jump off of the other side of the pallets when the truck sideswiped them and knocked him off balance. He tumbled to the ground, catching himself awkwardly with his right elbow before he could try to roll through the fall. He ended up face down in the dirt and lay there for a moment trying to gather his wits. There was a screech of spinning tires and the roar of the engine as he looked up to see the truck barreling down on Spencer. He put his hands on the ground and pushed to raise himself up, but his right elbow buckled and his face hit the dirt again. He looked up and saw the truck almost on top of the psychic, and there seemed to be no place for Spencer to go. His heart stopped for a moment as he watched him dive to the ground. It looked like he was trying to get under some old boats, but then the truck was on top of him. One of its front tires rolled up onto one of the boats which splintered under the weight, and then the rest of the boats shifted as the pile collapsed. The truck came to a shuddering stop sideways against the boats. There was no sign of Spencer. Lassiter lunged upright, forgetting his injured arm for a moment, thinking only of finding Shawn if he could.

He started to stumble towards the SUV, but then the doors opened and four large men climbed out. Lassiter stopped and eyed them as they started to approach, spreading out as they got nearer. He realized he was holding his right arm with his left hand, and then he held up his left hand in a warding gesture.

"Stop! Don't come any closer," he barked. The men exchanged some words in Spanish. "I am a detective with the SBPD. I'm warning you to stop now!"

"Police. You are police?" asked one of the men in heavily accented, broken English. Then the man gestured to his arm. "Why do you have handcuffs? Why are you here?"

"Look," he said again, turning as the men started to surround him but still taking steps towards the truck. "I don't know who you people are, or what you're doing here. Just let me go check on my friend over there. If he's injured, we need to help him."

He turned some more so that his back was to the SUV. He thought that maybe he could make a run for the truck and jump in before they caught him. Maybe they'd left the keys in it. But the guy who'd done the talking seemed to read his mind and gestured to the others. They all started to surge towards Lassiter, so he turned and tried to sprint to the SUV, but he was still too far away. One of the men who had been closest to him kicked out a foot and tripped him so that he once again went sprawling face first into the dirt. He raised his head and saw that he was looking under the truck at the boats that it had run into. He didn't see Spencer, but he also didn't see any blood or sign that the psychic had been run over. It was possible that he could be hidden under one of those boats, injured or not. Unfortunately, Lassiter knew he wasn't going to be able to find out in order to help because he had some major trouble of his own. Rough hands grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back. He tried to throw some punches, but the sun was beaming straight down into his eyes and he couldn't see anything for a moment. Then both of his arms were grabbed and he was pulled to his feet.

The bad guy spokesman stepped in front of him and grabbed his right wrist. Lassiter hissed at the pain in his elbow. The man raised an eyebrow then asked, "You will arrest me now? Or maybe I arrest you?" He grabbed Lassiter's left wrist and pulled his hands together, clamping the other cuff back in place.

Lassiter glared. "Sonofabitch," he growled. He felt such a surge of anger at everything that had been happening, and was continuing to happen, that he tried to shake off the hands holding him. The man narrowed his cold eyes and swung his fist hard into Lassiter's stomach. He was only saved from falling to the ground by the men holding him up as he gasped and gagged, blinking against the pain. More words were spoken around him, but he was busy trying to get air into his lungs and keep from retching. He half-walked and was half-dragged towards the back door.

Lassiter straightened somewhat as they entered the building although his stomach still felt like a twisted knot of pain. It was easier to walk than be dragged. The two men gripping his arms made no attempt to spare his shoulders or sore elbow. Lassiter's mind was racing, trying to form a plan of action. Unless Huey had woken up and wandered away, they would come upon him soon, and the distraction might be enough for Lassiter to try an escape. Somehow. He wasn't particularly optimistic about his chances, but he figured he had to at least try. The spokesman, who he was pretty sure the other men had called Andres, and the fourth man, trailed behind Lassiter and his guards, discussing something in Spanish. As they passed the foot of the stairway, Lassiter's eyes found the handcuffs key on the ground and gazed at it longingly for a moment. After another step or two, Andres called them all to a halt. Lassiter and his escorts all turned to look back just as Andres was leaning over to pick up the key from the floor.

"You, police. This looks like something you want," he said with a grin, holding up the key. Then he put it in his pocket. "Not your good day, I think?"

"No kidding," mumbled Lassiter as the men turned him around to continue on their way.

He felt his shoulders tighten when he peered ahead and saw Huey's still form lying on the ground. About two seconds later, one of his guards saw him too and called out to Andres who shouldered his way past to run over to the prone figure. Now, Lassiter and his two guards were standing to the side, about ten feet from the gutted hull. Lassiter gazed over at the boat hull, peering into the gloom underneath it, trying to pinpoint the location of Huey's gun as he finalized his plan of action. Andres and the other man bent over Huey, feeling for a pulse and slapping his face. Andres paused to look over his shoulder at Lassiter.

"This is your work, police?"

Lassiter just shrugged. "It's not my best work," he said dryly. Part of his plan involved pissing them off, if he could manage it. He was fairly confident that he could. "I'm thinking that arresting you all will be my best work."

Andres eyed him incredulously. He looked down at Huey one more time and said something to the man with him, who then started to jog towards the front of the building. Then Andres stood and walked over to Lassiter. He waved at the other two men who released Lassiter's arms. One of them walked over to poke at Huey while the other hovered nearby. Andres regarded Lassiter coolly, then he swung his fist into Lassiter's stomach so fast he hardly had time to brace himself. With no supports this time, Lassiter fell to his knees, gasping. Then Andres put his boot on Lassiter's shoulder and shoved hard, sending him sprawling onto his back. He was now a few feet closer to the boat hull, which is where he'd hoped to be, although being able to breathe would've been nice, too. He gaped like a fish out of water for a few moments as Andres loomed over him.

"If you can die quick today, that will be a good thing for you. That will be your best work. But I think you die slow." He turned away again to help with reviving Huey who was just starting to groan and stir.

Lassiter pulled in a shaky breath, as deep as he could, and let it out again. Andres and one other man were next to Huey. The third man was gazing their way and not paying attention. So it was time. He took another breath and then flipped himself to his stomach. It was hard to get leverage with his hands cuffed in front of him, but he managed to push up enough to pull his feet underneath so that he could propel himself towards the gutted hull. He ended up performing an awkward, jarring dive that landed his torso just within the outer edges of posts supporting the hull. The gun was still a few feet away. He started to belly crawl with elbows and knees, wriggling between the support posts, desperately grasping for the gun.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Shawn was getting a cramp in his leg, and his head really hurt where the boat had smacked it when it had fallen flat to the ground, but he was waiting just another minute or two before moving. He wanted to be sure the lack of voices meant lack of bad guys. His eyes were getting used to the darkness underneath the boat. The line of bright marking the edges where the boat didn't quite touch the ground was starting to glare like a light bulb. He listened intently for another minute while he watched a column of ants marching in from the sunlight to congregate on a half-eaten lollipop sitting on the dirt next to him. One of the ants wandered over to his fingers, and he flicked at it. I'm not road kill yet, he thought at it. Then he wondered if ants could possibly be telepathic. Run, little ant, get help! Tell Gus that Shawn has fallen down the well! He sighed and wondered for a moment just how hard the boat had hit his head. He touched the top of his head and felt a bump already forming. Hard enough. He stretched his leg as much as he could to relieve the cramp, then he decided it was time to emerge from his shell.

He lifted the edge of the boat, squinting against the invasion of brightness, and started to wriggle out from underneath, on the chain link fence side. The boat seemed to be weighted down with something, making it hard to squeeze out from beneath. Finally, he got his torso free, but then he had to deal with trying to get out from under the boat while being pushed up against the fence with little room to maneuver. With much wriggling and scraping of various body parts, he was free. He turned and saw that the truck had smashed through the side of the first boat in the domino pile and had pushed the second boat higher onto the third boat which was the one he'd been stuck under. So he'd been under two boats technically. No wonder it had been so hard to lift.

He gazed over the back of the truck at the building, realizing that the men had probably taken Lassiter back inside. For a moment he debated his next move. He should try to get help, probably, but he worried about Jules and Lassie both being stuck in the building with all of the bad guys. He could try to sneak in again and see if there was something he could do directly to free one or both of them. Both Gus and his father yelled at him in his head to not be an idiot. But then he remembered the sounds he'd heard while stuck under the boat. Lassie had tried to get to him, to see if he was okay. He'd even used the word "friend." Shawn knew it was used in a context that could've just as easily meant "acquaintance" or "the dude that was standing next to me." But the fact that Lassie had tried to get through all of those guys to check on him made him hesitate to just run away. Especially when he recalled the subsequent sounds of struggle, the click of handcuffs and an unmistakable gut punch of which the detective was most likely recipient rather than dispenser. He frowned and rubbed gingerly at the growing bump on his head. He decided to call the cavalry like he and Lassie had been trying to do before the _Death Race 2000 _audition. There were just too many bad guys to deal with. He started to climb out of the pile of boats.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Hey! Are you crazy?" yelled Andres from behind as Lassiter scrambled his way further under the gutted hull. "Do you think you can hide like a mouse?"

Lassiter continued his frantic, awkward belly-crawl, heart racing like a mouse, as the gun seemed to recede from his grasp the more desperate he became to reach it. Finally, with the curve of the boat hull looming over his head, he could see that he'd gotten close enough. With one final push on his sore knees and elbows he flopped on to his stomach and stretched his shackled arms forward, grabbing at the handle of the gun. Just as his fingers surrounded it, his ankles were gripped tightly and he was pulled backwards.

"Come out crazy mouse," said Andres, still blissfully clueless about what the detective was after under the boat. He gave Lassiter's ankles one final heave, getting him clear of the hull and its supports.

For a harrowing moment, Lassiter thought he'd lost his grip on the gun, but it finally fell into his hand as he stopped sliding backwards, and the familiar feel of it added to his surge of adrenalin. He twisted onto his back and brought his arms from over his head to bear on Andres, aimed center mass, and fired, all in one fluid movement. He saw the expression of confused shock on the man's face as he fell dead to the ground. Then he brought the gun around to bear on the man standing next closest, who was just recovering from his own shock and reaching for a weapon. The man saw his aim and tried to dodge, but Lassiter's shot clipped him in the calf and he fell, yelling out in pain. The third man's survival instinct kicked in and he abandoned the still-prone Huey as he dove for cover between the shelves under the walkway. Lassiter continued his roll over to his knees and lunged to his feet, running away from the shelves and ducking around the far side of the gutted hull before he turned and headed into the middle of the building, looking for a hidey-hole somewhere in the cluttered, cavernous space.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Juliet heard someone yelling and hazarded another look out of the office. Cesar and Bob were looking towards the back of the building, and Cesar was calling out to someone who was presumably approaching. He said a name, she thought it was Jorge, so it was yet another of his men. She wondered how many more of these guys were out there. It was five so far, not counting Huey and Bob. Suddenly a gunshot rang out, and everyone jumped in surprise. It had come from the back of the building. All of the non-captives had drawn their weapons instantly, and Juliet was getting ready to flatten herself to the ground if it was an imminent fire fight. After one nerve-wracking instant, another shot sounded. Juliet hardly remembered lying belly-down to the floor.

"Jesus, who's shooting?" hissed Jason who was half-lying on the floor.

"I don't know," said Juliet, although she had a strong suspicion, and it worried her greatly.

Cesar scowled and grabbed at his man Jorge when he got close, demanding to know the situation. Jorge rattled off his report as he and his boss both gazed worriedly towards the back of the building. Juliet couldn't make out much of what they were saying through the office door, but she thought she caught the name Huey and a mention of a police officer and another man and some sort of scuffle behind the building. She thought Jorge said something about running down the other man with the truck, but that would mean Shawn. Her chest tightened painfully, and she hoped she'd heard him wrong. Cesar gestured at one of his other men and Bob to go investigate. Juliet risked a quick glance at Frank who looked as confused as everyone else. So if Shawn and Lassiter had run into the Colombians out back and had been captured, or worse, then how had Lassiter gotten a gun? If it was Lassiter doing the shooting, he was terribly out-numbered. She had no idea how many of the bad guys were at the back of the building too, but obviously there were at least a couple, and now he'd just alerted several more of them to his presence.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

As Shawn scooted along the fence, he saw the leather case and picked it up without quite knowing why he was even bothering. After stepping off of the boat and moving around the front of the truck, he started once again towards Lassie's car and his bike. He figured he could break into Lassie's car and try the radio first. If he got a call through, maybe he'd venture back into the building while he waited for backup. Otherwise he could ride to a shop and call 911. He jogged in a half-crouch along the edge of the road, ready to duck behind a pile of clutter if he heard the door open again behind him, but the sound he did hear from the building made him freeze in his tracks. It was a gunshot. His empty stomach twisted angrily. Then another shot. He turned and looked at the building in horror. The shots had been fired near the back of the building, or he wouldn't have heard it as clearly. That meant Lassie.

Shawn swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, then he turned and ran full speed towards the car. When he reached it, he moved to the passenger side and saw that his bike was totally blocked in. He slammed the leather case down on the hood of the car in anger. Looking around, he spotted a large piece of concrete block lying on the ground and hefted it, then he slammed it into the passenger window of the car. It bounced off. He picked it up and, using both hands, swung the concrete piece from above his head down and into the window. The glass shattered. He unlocked the car and climbed in, sitting on the bits of safety glass. He fumbled with the radio, realizing with a detached part of his mind that his hands were shaking. He turned on the radio and tried to key in a call, but all he could get was static. Glaring at the device, he kept pushing buttons and talking into the dead air of the handset with a growing feeling of despair. How could Lassie's radio not be working? First the cell phone, then the radio. He gaped as an idea occurred to him. A jamming device? Seriously? Who the hell were these guys?

He got out of the car and slammed the door, feeling a tightness in his chest and back and a gnawing fear in his stomach. He didn't know what to do next, and he hated that. He rubbed a hand across his mouth as his mind raced through the images of the drive to the boatyard, trying to identify a place to run for help. But nothing seemed too promising, and his gut kept prodding him to run back to the building. And then he asked his gut if it had truly gone insane, but it just told him to shut up and go help his friends before it was too late. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment the painful knot on his skull until he bumped it and winced. Somehow, the pain seemed to flick a switch inside of him. The indecision disappeared and an anger-tinged determination took its place. He gazed at the leather case as a flimsy plan formed in his mind. It was just about as crazy as the idea of going back to the building, so it would do perfectly. He grabbed the case and ran back to the giant structure, pushing away the small flutterings of doubt that tried to reason with him. As he approached the back of the building again he noticed something that he'd missed the first time. The second giant garage-style door, the one furthest from the small back door, was not totally closed. There was a gap of a few inches at the bottom. He ran to the rolling door and leaned over, wondering if the gap was big enough to squeeze under. Voices reached him from inside, angry shouts in Spanish and English. He dropped to his belly and peered under the door. There didn't seem to be anyone near, and some boxes and a forklift would provide cover while he wriggled under. He took a deep breath and then proceeded to audition for the sequel to "Raw Privates."

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Juliet felt like she was being interrogated under a set of hot lights the way Cesar's eyes were boring into her. She kept her own eyes on her hands and allowed herself to shiver a bit, telling herself it was just for show. A few moments earlier, they'd watched through the office window as one of Cesar's men had apparently dragged a body up from the back of the building. Bob had also helped a wounded man up to the front. Cesar had seemed particularly incensed when he'd seen the dead man, and Juliet wondered if he had been Cesar's second-in-command. She'd rubbed her face with her hands for a moment to cover any of the relief that she'd been feeling in her partner's ability to survive that might've shown on her face. But then the office door had slammed open, and the coldly furious Cesar had entered to question them.

"Who is this policeman who has killed my man? One of you knows this. Believe me when I say it is best that you tell me now. You, woman, do you work with the police?"

Jason tried to stand up and face off with Cesar, but the guard from the steps was standing behind him and kicked the back of his leg hard, which sent him back to his knees. "Dammit!" he cried. Then he looked up at Cesar. "Just leave her alone. She's with me. She's not a cop. Why don't you ask that guy? We already know he's a cop."

Jason's hand settled on Juliet's shoulder protectively. She felt oddly impressed at his willingness to defend her and simultaneously repulsed at his possessiveness of her.

"You will stop talking," growled Cesar at Jason. "Woman! Look at me now, or I will kill this policeman."

Juliet wondered for a moment if this was some kind of sick, trick situation. Like, if she looked at Cesar it meant she cared about a policeman so he would think she was also with the police. But any decent person would try to spare a life, right? She settled her face as well as she could, hoping it conveyed fear and anxiety, but no defiance or guilt. She looked up at the shark-like eyes of Cesar.

"Do you work with the police?"

She blinked and swallowed, feeling like her fluttering heart was trying to fly up her esophagus like a butterfly escaping. "No," she said with a rough whisper. She cleared her throat and repeated more strongly. "No."

Cesar regarded her for a few more agonizing moments, and then he finally shifted his gaze to Frank. As he approached the shackled officer, he pulled a pair of black leather gloves out of his pocket and started to put them on. Frank's eyes met Juliet's for a brief moment with a look of resignation. Juliet felt another shiver run through her, and in response Jason gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. She closed her eyes as fear and discomfort and despair washed through her.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter's elbow was aching fiercely, but he kept holding the gun up and ready as he crept from one bit of cover to the next. He was hoping to find some kind of cubbyhole or corner that would protect his back and from which he would be able to deal maximum damage if they tried to get to him. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure he wouldn't find anything even remotely like that in this crazy boat warehouse. He'd managed to move across most of the space and was approaching the shelves of speed boats. He wondered briefly if climbing the shelves would be a good idea in order to gain a vantage point, but then he remembered the cursed hellspawn handcuffs on his wrists. Like he could forget them. His wrists were sore, chafed to the point of near-bleeding in some places. He'd considered trying to find tools and taking the time to get the cuffs off, but that would mean putting the gun down. He'd decided then that keeping the gun at the ready would be the best course of action. There was just no substitute for having a good, loaded weapon in times of emergency. At one point, he did risk pausing to check the clip, happily finding that it was only missing the two bullets he'd expended. He would have to pick his shots carefully to conserve ammunition, but he'd damn sure take out as many more of the bad guys as he could if given the chance.

He paused behind a cluster of wooden crates, listening for his pursuit. He was fairly certain at least two men were searching the building now for him, probably more. As he caught his breath and felt his pulse slow a bit, he thought about what he should do next. He could just find a hole and hide, hoping that either the bad guys got what they wanted and left or someone on the outside figured out a crime was taking place. But there was no telling how long either of those possibilities could take. Or he could keep moving around, leading however many men he could on a chase which might allow Juliet and Spencer to get free. If Spencer wasn't still lying outside dead or injured, and if Juliet hadn't been discovered to be a police officer by the new bad guys. He wasn't sure which plan to follow, and he knew he was fooling himself that he even had the luxury of planning anything out. For now, he was just reacting. If he got more time and space he'd try to form an actual plan, but the only options he really had were to survive and to fight back as best he could.

He shifted his thoughts to the new men and decided that they were probably Colombians and part of the ring of jewelry thieves he'd been reading about in his law enforcement periodicals. They were hardcore thieves, well-disciplined, which made sense because they were all ex-police or ex-military. Lassiter grimaced, hating the idea of cops gone bad. Such a waste of good training and good equipment. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he looked around for his next move. He didn't like resting for too long because he found his mind would begin to wander and his muscles stiffen up. His stomach still ached badly, along with his elbow and his nose. Too many smaller aches and stings hovered in the background to consider, as well. He sighed and looked at the shelves of boats, deciding to check them out. Even if they didn't provide any good cover, he thought it would be interesting to just look at them up close. It seemed so odd to have speed boats stacked four high on shelves, like it was a playroom for a giant child who collected little boats to sail in his kiddie pool.

He ducked his head around the edge of the crates to be sure his pursuers hadn't gotten too close yet, then he made a dash for the edge of the shelf system. As he ran, half-crouched and half-scanning behind and to the sides, he failed to notice a small, shoebox-sized package on the ground. He kicked it accidentally, and it slid across the floor, something inside of it clattering. The sound was loud enough for pursuit to pick up. He cursed and continued the dash to the shelves more quickly, hoping he hadn't just directed all of the searching men straight to his position.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Shawn crouched down behind the forklift when he heard steps approaching, but then they seemed to veer off towards the outer wall of the building. He peered through the machine, trying to see what was happening. He could see a man searching nearby, working his way through all of the shelves under the walkway before turning and making a circuit around the gutted hull. Another man in the distance seemed to be doing the same thing around various piles of junk, working his way towards the center of the building. He thought he could just make out movement even further off, towards the very front of the building. So it looked like three men were conducting a thorough search, and he was pretty sure he knew who they were looking for. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Lassie had to be alive and shooting. And he'd managed to stir up the whole hornet's nest of bad guys. Shawn realized that it was a perfect opportunity to find Juliet, with Lassie providing a distraction, however inadvertently. He wondered for a moment where the detective could be hiding and started to scan the area himself, just to get an idea in case he needed to lend a hand or just know where the action was going to be. There was a blur of movement far to his right, near the shelves of boats. Hopefully there would be some hiding places in that area, because the three men were methodically eliminating a lot of the middle part of the space.

Suddenly, the man closest to the middle of the building paused and seemed to focus on the far wall. Lassie had apparently made a noise to catch the man's attention. Shawn looked around quickly for something small enough to throw, hoping to create confusion in the search. He looked into the driver's area of the forklift but all he could find were the keys to the vehicle. He almost grabbed them, but decided that they might come in handy some other time. He also figured the forklift would be a good enough hiding place for the leather satchel he was still carrying, so he put it on the floor of the cockpit. He looked around on the ground but couldn't find any convenient rocks or bolts or spare tools. The man was starting to make his way in a beeline towards the shelved boats. Shawn patted his pockets and realized in a flash what he had to use. Gus would kill him. But it might as well be put to some use since it was currently useless. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and moved around behind the forklift. He could see the man who had been near the gutted hull was now near the yacht that was suspended by the crane system. The other man heading towards Lassie was on the far side of the suspended yacht. Shawn eyed it and tried hard not to think about his recent experiences with the yips as he heaved his phone up towards the yacht, hoping to get it onto the deck of the boat that was hanging fifteen feet or so in the air. His aim was thankfully true, and both men startled and turned to face the boat at the sound of the phone clattering onto its deck.

Shawn made a dash along the garage doors, heading for the stairway. Along with providing, hopefully, enough of a distraction for Lassie, he also hoped he'd created enough cover for himself. As he crossed the open space from the tall boxes to the foot of the stairway he glanced towards the front of the building and almost tripped when he saw the large pool of blood on the floor by the gutted hull.

"Dang, Lassie," he whispered as he noticed the trail of blood leading towards the office.

He shook his head and moved up the steps as quickly as he could while remaining quiet. Then, at the top, he sighed heavily and dropped to his belly to perform the all-too-familiar crawl through Splintersville. As he made his way along the walkway, he tried to catch any activity he could out in the open space. He could see the two men near the suspended yacht peering up at it and talking. For a moment, he wondered why, but as he moved further along he saw that at the end of the yacht nearest the front of the building there was a rolling staircase. So there actually was access to the yacht, and the men were debating or arguing about who was going to climb the stairs to check the noise. He laughed silently at the stroke of luck. Throwing his phone onto the yacht was supposed to just be a momentary distraction, because he'd thought there wasn't any way they'd believe Lassie might actually be up on the deck. Now, they'd spend even more time checking instead of searching. But then, a spear of ice hit his belly as he realized the men would actually get onto the yacht and find his phone. His grin faded and he shook his head. Well, at least the phone was dead, so other than the "Psych" logo they wouldn't get much information from it. Unless they could charge an iPhone. Then they'd get a whole lot of information from it. He grimaced and kept crawling.

When he got to the office, he stood up stiffly, rubbing absently at the sore spot on his head. He heard the muffled sound of a man talking in the office below, and then the sudden, startling sound of a punch. After his initial surprise, he realized he'd dropped to a crouch with his hands thrown out defensively. He sighed, and straightened again, listening. The voice continued, joined by another man's voice, but thankfully it didn't sound like whoever was getting interrogated was suffering any more blows. Shawn pulled his focus away from the voices and looked around. There was one small window on the second floor, so he crouched down and looked carefully out of it. In the distance he saw that one of the men had lost the coin toss and was cautiously ascending the rolling stairway to the yacht while the other man looked on. The third man searching was near the far corner of the front of the building making his way around several stacks of boxes and pallets and yet another forklift.

Shawn heard new voices and stood up and to the side of the window so he could look down below. The first thing he saw was a dead man lying on a tarp. He jerked away from the window for a moment, putting a hand over his mouth to keep any gasps or other possible noises of surprise from escaping. Of course, it was they guy Lassie had shot, but it was still a shock. He looked out again and saw another man nearby with a leg wound being tended by one of the Colombians with a first aid kit. These guys definitely came prepared. Huey was sitting on the ground with his head in his hands, looking decidedly shook up from the thumping Shawn had delivered, while Bob stood nearby mumbling something to him. A salt and pepper haired Colombian came out of the lower office and approached Huey and Bob. Shawn's stomach twisted sickly when he noticed that the man was wearing black leather sap gloves. The new man was quite obviously the leader, because he started reaming Bob and Huey. Shawn figured that the two men must be working with the Colombians, the way the leader was speaking to them like lackeys. But he'd seen the Colombians attack the other guy, which meant that these two had betrayed their friend to them.

Shawn moved away from the window, wondering where Juliet was. And there was still one Colombian and the other crook to account for. He had a sneaking suspicion that they were right below his feet. His stomach flopped again at the thought of Juliet in the lower office with whoever had been getting beaten. She had to be okay, though, he was sure of it because thinking anything else wasn't acceptable. He looked around the office again, hoping to see something to inspire a plan of action.

Another shot rang out. Shawn dropped to a crouch again with his hands over his head, fearing for a moment that someone had seen him moving around. But then he realized the sound wasn't loud enough to be someone shooting at him. It had come from the other side of the building. He ran back to the window and saw the two men by the yacht yelling at each other as the one climbing the stairway started down it again. He looked further and saw that the man at the front corner of the building was no longer visible. He felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought that either Lassie had gotten the guy, or the guy had gotten Lassie. He looked down to see that the men below him were all looking at each other with varying expressions of anger, confusion and concern. Then the leader barked something at the man playing medic who hurriedly finished bandaging his comrade. He turned to Bob and Huey.

"Wrap him," he said in heavily accented English while pointing at the dead man. "Take him out to the truck."

"Why us?" whined Huey while Bob just grimaced.

"Because you do not wish to join him, perhaps? You bring us here and suddenly there are police everywhere and my men are getting shot. I am not happy with this. You will do as I say."

Huey looked like he was going to protest more, but Bob laid a heavy hand on his shoulder as a warning. The leader walked back to the lower office door and opened it, saying something that Shawn couldn't quite make out. He stepped back as a man walked out of the office looking flustered and angry. Shawn realized it was the guy that Huey and Bob had betrayed.

"You help him," the leader said, indicating the medic and the wounded man. "Get him in the truck and load our things." The guy looked like he wanted to argue but apparently had a few more brain cells than Huey and kept his mouth shut. He walked over to the Colombian medic.

"What are you going to do?" asked Huey, ignoring Bob's warning glare, as they started to gingerly roll the body of the man up in the tarp.

The leader turned and started digging in a duffel bag. He grabbed some extra ammunition for the gun on his hip and pulled out something else that Shawn couldn't identify. "I am going to find this policeman who is in our way," he said simply, leaving unspoken what he was going to do to him. Shawn felt a shiver run down his spine.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter's heart was still racing almost painfully in his chest as he made his way back towards the middle of the warehouse, staying as low as possible. Just minutes earlier he had been walking between the two large shelves of boats, realizing with dismay that there was even less cover amongst them than he'd thought possible. The shelf system kept the boats far enough off of the ground to make it easy to see anyone moving around them. And unless he would actually climb into a boat, which wasn't feasible because of the handcuffs and wouldn't have been advisable because of the lack of escape options, there just simply wasn't any good cover in that area. He'd reached the end of the shelves closest to the front of the building already determined to circle back to the crate-cluttered interior where it was easier to hide. He'd been hoping to get a bead on the searchers and try to double-back on them. But then the man had appeared from around a stack of crates, about ten feet from where he'd been standing in the clear, open space between shelves. He'd stood frozen like a startled deer, with arms still raised and gun aimed, although his right arm had taken to a slight trembling beyond his ability to control. The man had seen him almost as soon as he'd rounded the crates, but it was still a second later than Lassiter had noticed the man, and it was that one second that had determined his fate.

Lassiter had quickly retraced his steps between the shelves to the back of the building, figuring that the Colombians might send all of their men to investigate the shooting site before fanning out to search for him again. There had been an area towards the middle of the open space but near the back that he remembered skirting. It had seemed to be an almost maze-like collection of crates and boxes and tarp-covered equipment. At the time, he'd wanted to move past it rather than investigate its nooks and crannies, but now nooks were sounding really good. He moved incrementally, keeping to a low crouch as much as possible, pausing to listen for any pursuit. His anxiety was building to the point of hearing phantom noises and feeling eyes following his every move even when he knew there was no one near him, yet. He paused behind a small stack of wooden decking and squatted down for a few moments, resting his right arm as much as he could and taking deep breaths to counter the anxious tightening in his chest. The maze was across an open area of about 25 feet. He would have to make the dash and hope that no one was looking to get a bead on him. The way his day was going, he wasn't feeling particularly optimistic about his luck. But, even if they figured out where he was going, he hoped the maze would provide enough cover and uncertainty for the Colombians to make them hesitate to follow him in. They obviously knew, now, that he was dangerous to them. He just hoped the clutter of boxes and crates provided escape options along with cover. He didn't want to get himself into a Butch and Sundance situation if he could help it. Taking one more deep breath, he set himself, counted silently to three, and then made the dash to the maze.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Shawn felt his heart starting to race in anticipation of his next move. He looked around and decided that things were set up as well as they could be. After he had watched the Colombian leader, Cesar, preparing to hunt down Lassie, he'd known he had to set a plan in motion to rescue Jules as soon as possible. So he'd crept to the edge of the stairs, yet again on his belly, and had noticed the guard sitting on the steps looking into the lower room. He couldn't see much else from that position, but he assumed Juliet and her undercover partner were in that room. After another search of the upper office, he'd found a few items that he could use and had finalized his plan of attack. Now, he was pausing to collect himself. He went to the window for one more look at the rest of the players in this truly awful movie that he hoped would end soon, with a happy ending of course.

For the moment, the warehouse was mostly empty. Bob and Huey and the other guy had all been conscripted to help load up the equipment and dead and wounded into the trucks outside. Cesar and the two men who had been searching the yacht were now out hunting the big-eared animal that was unfortunately not a rabbit and was instead his less-favorite, but still favored over bloodthirsty jewel thieves, detective. Shawn squinted with confusion for a moment when he realized Cesar was climbing the rolling staircase. One of his men was at the base of the stairs. The other man was just returning from the front corner of the building, dragging a body. More work for Huey, Dewey and Louie. Shawn realized that Cesar was getting a better vantage point for his search, and apparently it worked, because he started gesticulating to his crony and scrambled back down the stairs. Shawn hadn't been able to see what Cesar saw because of the suspended yacht, but he knew the general vicinity of where Lassie must've gone to ground. And now the Colombians had a bead on him. It was time to fire up the action scenes. He took a deep breath and turned to the stairway.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Juliet's nerves were beyond frayed and she didn't think she'd be able to sit on the floor of the office any longer without doing something, anything, to end the unbearable situation. Her partner was out there, somewhere, dealing damage to these thugs, and she was just sitting around doing nothing in the name of keeping her cover. What good was cover when Lassiter and Shawn were risking their lives? At least, she thought Shawn was out there too, although she hadn't heard any mention of him since he and Lassiter had run into the Colombians out back. She hoped he was hiding or running for help. She just mostly hoped he was unhurt. She'd heard enough snippets of conversation from the Colombians to know that Lassiter had now killed two of their men and wounded a third. But Cesar had gone out to personally hunt him down. She shivered at the thought as she glanced at Frank's split lip and bloodied nose. He gave her yet another warning look, as if he could read her mind and tell that she was about to break cover in favor of taking some kind of action. She grimaced and looked around the room again, trying to see something that she could use to distract or attack their guard. Now would be a perfect time to do it, because they were alone with just the one guard. Everyone else was either outside of the building or off into the cavernous interior in search of Lassiter.

She decided that she would use the "I have to go to the bathroom" ruse. She would stand up and walk towards the guard, looking for something to grab and attack with along the way. She was pretty sure she'd seen a box cutter on one of the counters. When she turned to look at the guard behind her, she saw him staring at her intently, wearing a stony expression. She opened her mouth to speak and the man just shook his head. This was going to be harder than she thought.

But then the strangest thing happened. A wool blanket seemed to almost float down from the upper floor and settled over the guard's head and shoulders. The man started to flail under the blanket, but sailing down after it was a mid-sized box that thudded heavily into the struggling form. He tumbled down the half-flight of steps and landed in a heap at the bottom, unmoving. Juliet blinked and looked to the top of the steps, finding Shawn's familiar grin.

"Hey, Jules!" he said as he made his way down the steps, skirting the guard at the bottom. "Fancy meeting you here. I had a box of books to deliver to that guy."

"Shawn! I heard them say something about running you over with a truck," she said as she jumped up and met him halfway. She was feeling so relieved that she gave him a quick hug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, just a few scrapes and bumps. I made like a bunny and dove under an old boat before they could run me over. Are you okay?" he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes. He looked her over and then looked at Frank, noticing the damage Cesar had inflicted.

"I'm fine. Shawn, this is Frank. He's part of the jewelry task force. Frank, this is Shawn Spencer, SBPD consultant and psychic."

Frank nodded. "Hi. Nice to meet you. Now you two need to get the hell out of here."

Juliet looked at him sharply. "We're not leaving without you!"

Just then voices sounded from outside the office. Shawn started to back up to the stairway, pulling Juliet with him. "Jules, I'm afraid he's right. We can't get him free in time for all of us to escape. Lassie can't distract them for much longer. They're closing in on him."

"Yes, go. And who the hell is Lassie?"

"Detective Lassiter, my partner," said Juliet. She got to the steps and lifted a corner of the wool blanket, reaching under it to retrieve the guard's gun and then tucking it into her waistband. As she followed Shawn up the stairs, she gave Frank a look of anguish. "We'll get you out soon."

Frank nodded. They reached the top of the steps and slipped out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Lassiter crouched down in a small gap between crates that were covered with a tarp. He was roughly in the middle of the maze-like collection of boxes and other junk. After reaching the maze, he'd moved all around the interior, learning the turns and as many exit points as he could find. Then he'd found a stack of smaller, cardboard boxes sandwiched between two stacks of crates, all covered with the tarp. He'd pulled the small stack of boxes out to form the cave-like space and had settled into it. Just moments earlier, he'd thought he'd heard footsteps and possibly even whispering, but now everything had grown eerily quiet. He was almost certain anyone approaching the maze would be able to hear his heart pounding out of his chest. He tried to swallow, but found his throat was too dry.

He heard a scuff to his left, which was roughly near the back wall of the building. He tensed and re-gripped the gun, but the movement of his hands made the handcuff chain clink slightly, sounding like a crashing cymbal to his anxiety-heightened hearing. He tried and failed again to swallow. He squinted as he listened for any more noises. And then a loud clatter sounded right in front of him as an object bounced around on the floor. He jerked with surprise and stared at it for a split-second. It was a small metal cylinder.

"Oh, crap," he hissed as he lunged out of his cubby-hole. The stack of boxes was sitting in the middle of the open space near the bouncing canister, so he pushed them over hoping to maybe smother the grenade somewhat. Then he started to run, bumping into a plastic-wrapped stack of boxes as he rounded a corner in his desperation to get away. He wasn't sure if it was a flash-bang or a CS canister, but he knew he had to get as much distance from it as he could as quickly as possible. He heard the pop of the grenade exploding and started to hold his breath as he maneuvered through the maze. The canister had been a small "personal-sized" one which wouldn't cover too wide of an area, and the boxes and twists of the maze would at least break up the gas and help minimize the effects. But it would still pack enough of a wallop that he couldn't afford to stay in the shelter any longer. Cursing the well-equipped thieves, he headed for one of the exits that opened up to the middle of the building. He paused at the edge of another plastic-wrapped stack of boxes, listening. He took a shallow breath and felt his eyes beginning to water. The gas was harsh in his lungs already, and he was at the outer edges of its reach.

A cough sounded off to his left, towards the side wall and back door of the building. At least whoever had thrown the grenade was getting a taste of its effects as well. He crouched low and moved out of the maze, gun at the ready. As he got to the outer edge of the boxes he glanced left in the direction of the cough, hoping that if no one was in sight that way he could skirt around to the right and still use the boxes as cover as he moved down the back wall, away from the tear gas. Unfortunately, someone was in sight to his left. He saw the man standing about twenty feet away, holding a cloth up to his face to hold off the gas. Even more unfortunately, someone else was waiting just at the edge of the boxes on the right. As he was turning to aim at the man on the left, he caught the blur of movement to his right, too late to react. The man was nearly silent, even in mid-attack, and he was quick.

Lassiter felt a hand close around his right wrist, twisting it and pulling it down. His sore elbow flashed with pain. Then the man's knee rose and impacted his elbow. The flash turned into an explosion as he heard a sickening pop. He felt like screaming but only managed a strangled gasp as he heard his gun clatter to the floor. The man held the chain of the handcuffs and started to lift his hands again, pulling on his destroyed elbow mercilessly. The edges of Lassiter's vision had a red tinge, but he looked at his attacker, catching a glint in the man's black eyes and the hint of salt and pepper hair. Lassiter swung his left knee up, trying to hit the man's groin. The man twisted at the last moment and took the brunt of the hard blow to his upper thigh, grunting slightly at the impact, then he continued the twist, pulling Lassiter in the direction of his un-set left leg so that he started to lose his balance. He gave one more agonizing pull on the chain of the handcuffs, swinging Lassiter faster and further to his left towards a wooden wall of crates, then he shoved him with his other hand. Lassiter tried to catch his balance to break his impact, but with his hands tied and with the momentum of the man's swing and shove, he had little chance. His left hip, shoulder and the left side of his head smashed into the crates. Bright lights flashed in his vision. Reality seemed to tilt and twist for a moment, like it was riding rough waves on the sea. He planted his feet and pushed himself up against the crates, refusing to allow himself to crumple to the ground.

"You are the policeman," said the man with a strong accent. He stood a few feet away, seemingly relaxed and regarding Lassiter with a hint of curiosity.

Lassiter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then blinked, trying to set reality straight again. He gripped his right wrist with his left and held his injured arm against his body. "Detective," he said gruffly. "SBPD."

"You have done all of this, to my men, while handcuffed."

"Looks that way."

The man pursed his lips and nodded. "You are a thorn in my side. Or is the saying a fly in my ointment?"

Lassiter grimaced and focused on the man as his bearings settled to almost-normal. "Let's go with the thorn one," he said.

"Why are you here?" the man asked sharply.

Lassiter thought back over his day. "I don't really know," he said wryly. "Wrong place..."

The man was suddenly standing right in front of him. Lassiter blinked, wondering if he'd blacked out for a moment or if the man could really move that fast.

"Who brought you here?" he asked, with the tone of an interrogator. Lassiter knew the tone well. He used it often. He set his jaw and met the man's cold look with a glare. The man grabbed his right arm below the elbow and lifted it, causing the elbow to bend, and leaned in closer. "Who are you working with?"

Lassiter cried out and squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of pain. Then he opened his eyes again, and bared his teeth. He grabbed the front of the man's shirt with his left hand, despite the renewed jostling of his right, and tried to straighten himself on his buckling knees so he could loom over the shorter man.

"Go fuck yourself," he growled, meeting the man's cold eyes with the blue fire of his glare.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, which was the only warning. Then his fist drove into Lassiter's stomach. After a moment, Lassiter became aware that he was lying on the floor on his left side, gagging and gasping for air. He tried to get his left hand down to push himself up, but his right arm was hanging heavily and his left arm seemed to require more oxygen. He dragged in a painful breath. The punch had been insanely hard. He thought for a moment and realized the man was wearing gloves. They had to be sap gloves. He coughed and pulled in another agonizing breath.

"It is no matter," said the man casually as he stood nearby. "I know it is not my men, so it has to be one of the Americans. They will all be dealt with."

Lassiter finally managed to get his left hand down and pushed up, pulling his knees under him at the same time. "So what do you want with me now?" he rasped, twisting his head to look up at the man.

"A little bit, I am curious," he said, tilting his head to look down at Lassiter. Then his eyes grew noticeably colder. "Also, you killed two of my men. My best lieutenant." Without any warning he kicked out viciously and caught Lassiter in the ribs on his right side, flipping him onto his back. "It has been a frustrating day."

Lassiter continued to roll over to his right side and pulled himself into a fetal position, curling around the pain. He lay on his sore right arm, but he almost didn't care as he waited for the stabbing in his ribs to subside. He was sure they were cracked, but hopefully that was all. For a few moments he rested like that, gazing blankly at the world while the agonies assailing his senses started to wane. Besides the guy kicking his ass, there were two others standing with their backs to the back door while they watched the show. Movement caught his attention. His gaze focused on the wooden walkway on the far wall. He could see about half of it, the rest blocked by the suspended yacht, but what he saw made his heart leap into his throat. Spencer and Juliet were running along it toward the back door.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Shawn, where are we going?" hissed Juliet as they started to run along the walkway.

"Back door," he said.

"Then what?"

Shawn paused for a moment, crouched low. "Um, then we're outside? I don't know, Jules, I'm just trying to get us out of here. Maybe we can go rescue those cops in the trunk, then they can drive for help."

"We can just use their radio."

"No, these guys are jamming the radios and cell phones."

Juliet caught her breath and gave him an incredulous look. He just grimaced and shrugged. She looked out into the warehouse and detected movement about halfway across the massive space. She squinted, first noticing a small trail of smoke rising from a collection of large boxes and crates. Then she saw two men standing in an open area near the crates, luckily facing away from her and Shawn. Beyond them were two more figures. One of them was lying in a fetal position on the floor and the other was standing over him threateningly. Her heart skipped painfully and she gasped.

"Shawn," she whispered, pointing.

He followed her gaze and saw Cesar looming over the curled up detective. He rubbed a hand across his mouth and looked back at Juliet. "Jules, we need to leave. We need to get help."

Juliet saw Lassiter moving. He rolled onto his back and seemed to be saying something to Cesar. For some reason, she got the oddest feeling that he'd seen her and Shawn on the walkway. She realized if any of the other men turned around, they'd easily see them too. Lassiter was trying to sit up, talking more heatedly, and the men kept their attention on him. He was still trying to keep them distracted. Her stomach twisted at the thought, because she could tell he'd already been roughed up by Cesar, and now he was inviting further attention.

"Yes, we do, Shawn," she said with agonized resignation. But then a note of steel crept into her voice. "Let's get down from here, but we're not going to just leave Carlton behind." She stayed low and moved quickly along the rest of the walkway while holding a handful of Shawn's sleeve to be sure he was staying close.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter watched Shawn leading Juliet along the walkway and felt a simultaneous stab of relief and fear. If they got out the back door they'd be free and clear, and they could get help, but if any of the men around him looked their direction until then, they'd be discovered. Then, frighteningly, they stopped moving in order to discuss something. Lassiter's stomach twisted and he coughed roughly. Don't stop moving, he thought desperately to them. He drew in a shaky breath. He had more distracting to do.

"Just imagine how much more frustrated you'll be when I arrest you," said Lassiter with a painful rasp as he rolled onto his back and looked up at the man.

The man stepped closer, turning slightly so that his back was to Shawn and Juliet. Good, thought Lassiter, good.

"You think this sarcasm will help you?"

"I need your name," said Lassiter.

The man's eyes narrowed.

"I'm Detective Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department."

"I am Cesar. That is all you need to know."

Lassiter swallowed a lump in his throat as he struggled into a sitting position. His ribs stabbed at him again and he grimaced, then he looked up and felt a welcome wave of relief when he saw that Juliet and Shawn were finally moving again. Juliet had a handful of Shawn's sleeve and was rushing along the walkway. He wondered if she'd seen him and the men and had realized their danger. Regardless, they were on their way now, and he'd started something he needed to finish. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, unable to stifle a gasp of pain, then he turned to face Cesar's cold glare.

"Cesar," he said, summoning as much authority to his voice as he could as he straightened to his full height. "You have the right to remain silent."

Cesar's eyes flashed with surprise, then his face fell into a menacing frown. "You are playing some kind of game, I think," he said in a low growl as he stepped closer, eyes growing murderous. "You should stop."

"Anything you say can and will be used..."

Cesar swung a right hook, and reality took another dive into the stormy sea. He blinked, realizing he was looking at concrete, and feeling like the left half of his face had been pushed into the right half of his skull. He saw something red puddling onto the gray floor. He blinked again and thought he was about done with this day. It could be over now. He didn't really want to see the rest of it through. One more breath would be good, though, he decided, and took a shaky breath. He tried to raise his head. There was a sharp tug on his collar, pulling him upright on his knees, and he noticed finally that he'd fallen to his hands and knees with the blow. Cesar was looming, like a black cloud over the sea. His eyes flashed with lightning as he released his collar and regarded him with almost eager anticipation. Lassiter gazed blurrily past the stormy man and saw his partner and his pain-in-the-neck reach the stairs and slip out of view. One more, he thought, one more breath, one more sentence, one more he could manage. Yes, he could handle one more.

"You have the right to an attorney," he whispered.

Cesar swung. The black cloud boiled out and engulfed him in pain as the whole world capsized.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Shawn almost knocked Juliet over when she reached the back door. He'd been expecting her to open it and run out, but she'd stopped suddenly.

"Shawn, there are only three of them," she hissed, looking in the direction of the men and Lassiter even though their viewpoint was now blocked by the large boxes near the door. "I have a full clip. Maybe we can take them all out right now."

Shawn shook his head, though his chest felt tight knowing how anguished Juliet was about Lassiter. They'd both seen him stand and then get punched hard, just as they'd gotten to the steps and had started down. Shawn felt extra awful knowing that Cesar was using the gloves.

"I have a plan," he whispered. "Let's go outside. Please."

She gave him a look that was almost equal parts pain, anger and pleading.

"Please," he repeated.

She looked towards the men again and released a breath she'd apparently been holding, and then she turned and pushed open the door. She held her gun at the ready, remembering that the men had left a truck in back. Shawn remembered too, and put a hand on his still tender head as he walked out behind Juliet. He was relieved she hadn't insisted on the Rambo-style rescue scenario, although he wasn't sure his plan was going to be any less crazy. At least his plan involved summoning backup finally, if Juliet could be convinced to go along with it. When they stepped out into the sunlight, both squinting, they were shocked to find the SUV missing. One of the men had apparently retrieved it at some point.

Juliet was looking around, eyes landing on the pile of boats by the chain link fence. "Are those the boat you hid under?" she asked.

"Yeah, great accommodations, very cozy. There was even a complimentary dirt-covered lollipop. It's still there if you want it. You can probably rinse off most of the dirt...and ants."

Juliet pursed her lips, and her shoulders seemed to hunch more. It wasn't the reaction Shawn had been hoping for, although he knew he was fooling himself to think he could make her laugh at a time like this. He saw her staring down the access road at Lassiter's car.

"Yeah, that's Lassie's car," he said, reading her thoughts. "I already broke into it to try the radio, but it didn't work. That's when I came back inside to get you." 

She turned and looked at him with sad eyes. "Thank you, Shawn."

"It's too bad we don't have his keys," said Shawn, trying to work out his rough plan in his mind before pitching it to Juliet.

Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Wait a minute! We do! He told me once that he leaves a spare key taped to the underside of the passenger seat."

"What?" Shawn said incredulously. "Why would he do that?"

Juliet opened her mouth and then closed it again for a moment. Then she said, "Well, he told me to never tell anyone the reason. Especially you." Her eyes twinkled for a moment before the anxiety took hold again.

Oh, I have got to figure that one out, thought Shawn. "Jules, that's awesome! You can take Lassie's car around and rescue the guys in the trunk. Then you can all drive somewhere where there's a radio signal again to call for backup."

"And what are you going to do?"

He grimaced and then tried to smile enthusiastically. "I need to go back inside."

"No! Shawn, you can't keep running back in there!"

"Jules, there's something I can do to throw them off. I know it'll work. At least, I hope it will. And it'll keep them busy long enough for the cavalry to arrive."

"What is it?"

"I'm going to give them what they want, or at least, I'm going to make them think I have what they want."

Juliet's eyes started to flash with anger. "Shawn! You can't go in there and make yourself bait for these guys. Carlton already did that, and look where it got him."

"Well, he didn't really go in there trying to do that," Shawn began, but when he saw how much more angry she was starting to look, he changed tactics. They would have to hash all of those details out later. "And anyway, I'm not going to be the bait. The jewelry is."

"What jewelry?"

"Exactly!"

Juliet looked like she was going to hit him, or shoot him.

"I have your buddy's bag, the jewelry bag that dude had at the station this morning."

"But, it's empty."

"Yeah, but those guys don't know that."

She sighed and rubbed her face. They both knew time was running short. "Okay, but I'm not leaving either. I'll get Mitchell and Chen. Then I'm coming back."

"Um, should we try to coordinate? I'm going to try and set up a distraction in the back corner of the warehouse. Hopefully I can do that in stealth mode."

"I'm just going to try walking in the front door. My cover isn't blown yet, I don't think. I should be able to get in to unlock Frank, at least, and try to find Carlton." She looked wholly unconvinced about her own plan.

"Well if you get questions out front, try to point them inside to my distraction to throw them off." Shawn pursed his lips and shook his head, thinking about how impossible the situation seemed the longer they dwelled on it. "You know, the more I think about this, the worse it looks. So let's stop thinking, and talking, and..."

Juliet nodded, squinting. "Good luck, Shawn," she said. She started running for Lassiter's car.

He gave her retreating form a salute, then wondered why the hell he was doing that, then thought for a moment again about where he needed to go, then he finally turned and ran to the partially open garage door for another wriggling entrance. He managed to get under the door in record time and crept up to the forklift. The bag was still there, he was relieved to see. He could hear voices, but he couldn't see past the maze-like jumble of boxes and crates on the other side of the forklift. He looked up at the cockpit roof and started to climb, which was made all the more difficult for carrying the case with him. The forklift was a fairly large machine. It was bigger than standard forklifts, and the forks sticking out from it were much longer to accommodate picking up speed boats. When he mounted the small roof, he saw that he would be just visible to the men on the other side of the maze when he stood to his full height.

He stayed low for another moment, rising up just enough to see what the men were doing. Lassiter was lying on the ground again, unmoving. He was mostly belly-down, although hitched up on his right side a bit. Shawn could see that his hands were still handcuffed, and he wondered if they'd been that way the entire time since the game of truck tag. He could also see that the whole left side of Lassie's face was red with blood. Cesar's sap gloves had cut open his left eyebrow and left cheek. Shawn frowned. The three men were standing over the detective, discussing their next move, he assumed. He decided to give them something more to think about. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Hey, out there!" The three men drew their guns and swung in his direction. He ducked low with his hands over his head. "Don't shoot! I come bearing gifts!"

There was a moment of silence, and then Cesar's voice rang out. "Who are you?"

Shawn looked up cautiously. The men were starting to fan out. He had to hurry. "My name is Shawn Spencer. I'm the Head Psychic for the SBPD."

There was another moment of silence. "You are a psychic?" Cesar asked, clearly skeptical.

"Yes I am. And I had a vision that my colleague there needed help today. The vision led me here."

"You are lying. Why are you here?"

Shawn swallowed against his dry throat. "My vision also told me to bring along this case that I found at the police station. It was very specific. It said the shiny treasures in this case would be what you were looking for. It said if I brought these to you, that you would leave and no one else would be hurt."

After yet another moment of silence, Shawn rose up to see what was happening. Cesar was talking to his men again. They seemed to be trying to convince him to listen. They were believers then, although Cesar clearly wasn't. Shawn decided to take the risk and stood to his full height, holding up the bag so that they could see it. "Here is the case. It has the letters 'V' and 'B' engraved on it, if that means anything to you."

"Give me that case," demanded Cesar.

"I will give it to you when the men you are holding are set free."

"You will give it to me now," said Cesar. "You are a fool to interfere here, and you will suffer for it." He barked orders to his men. The biggest man leaned over and picked Lassie up in a fireman's carry and then started walking towards the front office. The other man started to walk around the maze to one side while Cesar headed the other way.

"Oh crap," said Shawn, scrambling down from the roof. It was so frustrating when the bad guys didn't go along with his hastily made-up plans. "When you want to listen, you can have the jewelry. Until then, the spirits will hide me!" He groaned inwardly at how corny his own threat sounded, but he hoped at least the one guy would buy it and try to talk Cesar into being reasonable. That is, if he managed to get away from them first.

He jumped to the ground, feeling the impact jar his knees painfully, then he bolted for the back door. He heard the pounding of footsteps as the men started to run in pursuit. He burst out the door and ran along the building wall straight to the garage door again, diving once more for the gap. When his head was under the door, he looked around, hoping the men had run far enough away to not spot him coming through. He heard their footsteps but couldn't see them. With a final wriggle he was clear of the door, just as he heard the back door in the corner opened. He'd just made it. Now he had to get the next part of his plan operating.

He ran to the forklift, jumped into the operator's chair and examined the controls for a moment. They seemed clear enough, for what he needed to do. He turned the key to start the machine. The rumble of the engine seemed frighteningly loud, but he hoped that it didn't carry through the back wall of the building enough to catch Cesar's attention. Just in case, though, he got to work. First, he started raising the forks. When they were even with the seat, he leaned out and put the case on the flat surface of the fork. Then, he put the machine in gear, aimed it down the clear lane that ran along the back wall towards the shelves of boats and set it in motion. He jumped off of the machine as it started to roll along the wall, the forks now at their highest point about twenty feet in the air.

The back door banged open again, making his heart skip a few beats. He looked around and saw a small crevice between the crates making up the maze and dove for it. He sucked in his stomach and squeezed himself in between the crates just as footsteps pounded past. Cesar and the other man ran towards the lumbering forklift, guns raised. Shawn took a deep breath and then nearly coughed when a stinging sensation hit his throat and lungs. He put his hands over his mouth and realized that his eyes were starting to water too. Something had sprung a leak or...then he remembered the trail of smoke from the crates earlier and realized that the men had flushed Lassie out of the maze with tear gas. He leaned out to see where the men were, because he had to get out of there again or he wouldn't be able to stop from coughing. Their backs were to him as they watched the machine approach the shelves of boats. It was stealth mode time. Shawn ducked out of the crevice and scooted along the crates with his back to them, moving as quickly as possible while keeping his eye on the men.

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Juliet could see Huey, Bob and Jason all standing around the two big SUVs in front of the building, along with two of Cesar's men. They seemed to be having a heated discussion about something. She wasn't sure what it could be, and she didn't really care. All she wanted was to get past them and back inside. She took a shaky breath as she approached.

She hoped Mitchell and Chen didn't have to drive too far to get a radio signal again. She had driven Lassiter's car up to their vehicle and had been able to pop the trunk to release them. Mitchell had been injured in the struggle with the Colombians, and couldn't walk on his own. She had helped Chen get Mitchell into the car while filling them in on everything. They'd protested about her going back to the warehouse, but she wasn't going to be denied. She'd gotten a key for handcuffs and had borrowed a gun from Mitchell before seeing them off. Then she'd started up the road towards the building, hoping against hope that she'd be able to get back inside.

She finally got within shouting distance of the men, and debated whether she should actually shout. One of them spotted her, though, making the decision for her. She waved and held up her hands. Her heart pounded at the thought of the two guns in the back of her waistband. The thin cardigan she was wearing wasn't the best garment for concealing weapons, but it would have to do. One of the Colombians started to raise his gun anyway, but Jason put a hand out to lower his arm. It seemed almost as if Jason had talked himself into the good graces of the Colombians, somehow. Or at least they didn't seem to consider him a prisoner anymore. It only helped her, for the moment, so she didn't mind.

"Jen!" yelled Jason. "What are you doing out here?"

"Hi! Cesar sent me out to find you guys. He thought you might be at the truck in back, but when I got outside it was gone."

"Yeah they brought that around a little while ago. Why did Cesar send you?"

"Well, he caught that cop, and then they figured out that there really is some jewelry inside. I guess that undercover guy actually brought it with him today."

The men all looked at each other, incredulous, then stared back at her as she finally reached them. She put her hands on her hips so her sweater would hang more loosely in the back.

"Are you serious?" asked Huey with his perpetual whine.

She nodded and shrugged. "His guys are looking for it in there, so he told me to find you."

"That's weird," said Bob. Juliet's heart started to pound faster, but she just tilted her head and gave him the most innocent look she could muster.

"They're searching for it?" asked Jason.

"Um, yeah, like the guy hid it or something? Or that other cop had it and hid it? You know, I'm not even sure. They're in the back part now, like in the far back corner."

The men all looked at each other again, although this time their looks were more calculating as the idea of a bag full of jewelry somewhere in the warehouse started to sink its teeth into them. Finally, Jason shrugged and said, "Well, let's go check it out I guess."

Bob grabbed his arm and growled, "You're not getting any cuts of it, Jason. We have the deal with these guys."

Jason glared back. "You do for now, Bob."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

One of the Colombians rolled his eyes and pushed the two men away from each other. "Go inside. Cesar will decide who has deals or not."

Juliet watched the exchange while holding a tight rein on her nerves. She was glad that the idea of the jewelry and the conflict between Huey and Bob and Jason had distracted them from her, because her anxiety was growing by the second. She just wanted to get inside and find Lassiter, if she could, and get Frank free. Hopefully when they went inside they'd all just make a beeline for the back. And hopefully Shawn had set up some kind of actual distraction.

The Colombian gave Jason and Bob another small push, earning a glare from the big man, and then they all finally started for the building. All except one Colombian who stayed behind with the trucks. Juliet thought about trying to goad him inside too, but she was afraid to push her luck. They'd have to figure out a way around him later. When they entered the building, there was a noisy commotion coming from the back corner. Huey, Bob and the Colombian all started to head that way quickly, but Jason hung back for a moment.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"I'm just going back in here," she said, waving towards the office. "Cesar told me to come back after I'd gotten you guys and to sit in the office again. That guy scares the hell out of me, so I'm just going to do exactly what he said."

Jason raised his eyebrow at her, but then he nodded. "Okay, that's probably the best thing to do. Just between you and me, I'm hoping to make a deal with him myself. You know, undercut Huey and Bob and get in on the action instead of them. I figure that Cesar guy might want to make some connections with my uncle's operation. Huey and Bob can't give him that, so maybe I can screw them over and set up a sweet deal at the same time." He grinned happily at the thought.

Juliet smiled back, hoping she looked at least remotely interested in his potential triumph. Really, though, all she wanted was for him to shut up and go away. A loud scraping sound came from the back and several people started yelling. Jason gave her a wave and started to jog in that direction, finally. She sighed and ran for the office. When she burst through the door she had a shock. Lassiter was lying on the floor next to Frank's chair. Her heart leapt for joy at the luck, but then she finally focused on her partner and saw the extent of his injuries.

"Oh my god," she breathed as she rushed over and crouched at his side. "Carlton?"

He was lying on his right side. The whole left half of his face was red with blood. His hands were cuffed in front, and she noticed with a sickening jolt that his right arm seemed to be bending the wrong way.

"I've been trying to wake him up," said Frank. "He's been knocked around pretty good."

She put her fingers to his neck and found his pulse was strong. "Carlton?" she tried again while squeezing his left shoulder. "Carlton, you have to get up now."

Lassiter groaned and mumbled, "Jus' a min."

Juliet exchanged a quick, relieved look with Frank, and then she remembered that he was still handcuffed. "Omigosh, I have keys. Hang on," she said as she stood up and retrieved the keys from her pocket. She glanced out of the dingy office window to be sure they were alone before she moved around behind Frank's chair and released him.

"Thank you so much," he said with relief. Then he grunted as he pulled his arms around and rubbed his wrists. "Damn that hurts." He started to rise gingerly, slapping at his legs. Juliet realized that his arms and legs had probably all fallen asleep, and that he would be suffering some major pins and needles soon.

She ran back to Lassiter and tried to unlock his handcuffs with as little jostling on his right arm as possible. "Carlton, it's time to get up now. We need to get out of here," she said as she worked, hoping that he could be roused enough to at least partially walk. When the handcuffs were finally off she gasped at the raw wounds on his wrists.

"So where are all of these guys now?" asked Frank.

"Shawn set up a distraction in the back corner. They're all back there except for one man who's still out front with the trucks." Frank nodded at the information as he continued to try to wake up his sluggish limbs. Juliet kept rubbing Lassiter's arm and squeezing his shoulder. "How did Carlton get up here with you?"

"One of them carried him in here just a few minutes ago. The other guy woke up after you and Shawn got away and just sort of wandered outside. His bell was still rung. I don't know what he told his buddies, but no one came rushing in to see what had happened to him. Maybe they just thought your partner here had attacked him or something," he said with a shrug. "They're really trying to clean house and get out of here, I think. I'm glad your friend Shawn came up with a distraction because I'm afraid their next step was going to be finishing off me and Detective Lassiter execution-style."

Lassiter groaned again and started to shift around. When his right arm moved, he hissed and bared his teeth. "Sonofabitch," he gasped. He opened his eyes, finally, and blinked up at Juliet. "Oh, thank goodness, O'Hara."

She smiled at him, but then gave him a look of admonishment. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, but right now we just need to get you on your feet. Can you stand?"

He blinked a few more times as if clearing the cobwebs from his brain, then he reached over to cradle his right arm with his left hand. He finally seemed to realize that the handcuffs were gone and heaved a big sigh. "I'll try," he rasped.

Frank moved behind Lassiter, hooked his hands into his armpits, and lifted. Juliet tried to help from the front, being careful not to grab his right arm, but all of the movement jostled his arm anyway and he had to stifle a cry of pain. Finally, Lassiter managed to plant his feet after Frank had lifted him enough, but his knees were still weak. Frank held on to him for a few more moments while his legs steadied.

"Can you tuck that arm in your shirt, to hold it steady?" asked Frank.

Juliet opened one of Lassiter's shirt buttons and helped tuck his arm inside, biting her lip at the gasps of pain he endured until the arm was secured. She felt a turmoil of emotions, anger and sadness at her partner's injuries and suffering, and fear that they still weren't out of trouble, yet. When she was done helping with his arm, Lassiter gave her a look of gratitude.

"Thanks," said Lassiter, in general, then over his shoulder he asked. "And who are you?"

"Detective Frank Serrano, SFPD. Nice to meet you."

Lassiter nodded. "Likewise," he said, then he straightened up, bearing his own weight finally. "I think I got it now."

Frank let go and Lassiter started to topple. Juliet grabbed the lapels of his suit coat while Frank grabbed his left arm again. "Let's try this," said Frank as he hooked Lassiter's left arm over his shoulders so that he could lean on him.

"Okay," said Lassiter.

Juliet gave him a concerned look, knowing how badly he was hurting if he so easily accepted being half-carried. He obviously needed medical attention, but they had to get past the man outside, first. For a moment, she considered using the walkway and heading to the back door again, but she wasn't sure exactly where the men were in the building. It would be better to deal with the one known man than the unknown number in back.

Frank seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Front door then?"

"Looks that way," she said.

"Let's do it," said Lassiter.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Shawn was starting to wonder if he should move some of the stuff from his apartment onto the walkway, as much time as he'd been spending there. He could at least throw down some pillows and rugs to soften it up a bit. He was once again crawling on his belly because the rest of the warehouse was apparently crawling with thugs. It was great, though, that his distraction had worked so well. It had worked even better than he'd expected because the forklift had gotten itself wedged in the shelf system so badly that the men couldn't jump into the cockpit to turn it off. And the whole shelf was starting to wobble a bit. The men were all yelling at each other to run in and retrieve the satchel, but none of them was actually risking it, yet.

Shawn began hoping that there would be a clear shot at the front door, but then his hopes were dashed by the sound of an actual gunshot, and his stomach dropped to his toes. Or more accurately it slid along the splintery walkway until it got snagged on his toes. Damn, damn, damn, he thought. The shot had come from up ahead. He crawled forward and peered through the railing. Cesar was hiding behind a crate and looking towards the front door. Shawn leaned out more and saw Juliet ducked down behind a 50 gallon barrel that was leaking some kind of grain or powder from the fresh bullet hole. Even further on, he could see Lassie and Frank trying to crawl for the front door. Lassie looked barely mobile, but they were trying to get out while Juliet provided cover. Shawn squinted and thought quickly. He looked down and scanned the area between himself and Cesar, then he formulated a plan of action, something his father might call hair-brained, but it was a plan of action nonetheless.

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Lassiter felt as if his brain had become detached and was floating a few inches behind his aching skull, held by just a thin tether of ability to think and react effectively. In some part of that floating brain he felt embarrassed at needing to be supported by Frank, and he felt ashamed that his partner was providing cover for him to get away instead of it being the other way around. But he was too dizzy to dwell for long on his grievances. Just moving was proving to be enough of a challenge. Frank tugged on his sleeve and Lassiter lunged forward a few more feet in the odd half-crouch, half-crawl that they'd adopted when Cesar had opened fire. He stumbled and landed heavily on his left elbow, which jarred his right arm and sent a spear of pain through his ribs. Hissing, he looked up and saw Frank's hand reaching out. He grabbed it and was pulled along to sit next to Frank near the front door.

"I'll check it," said Frank, pulling out the gun Juliet had given to him. Lassiter felt a stab of jealousy, but he understood why Frank had gotten the one spare gun. Being able to see straight was a definite advantage.

Frank opened the door and peered outside for a moment, then he began to stand up and exit when a shot sounded from outside. Frank yelped and fell backwards, tripping over Lassiter and falling heavily to the ground as the door slowly closed again.

"Frank!" said Lassiter, moving to his side. He saw a hole in his sleeve and a quickly spreading stain. "Dammit! Did you see the guy?"

Frank looked dazed either by the shot or the fall to the floor, or both, but he grimaced and nodded. "Yeah," he breathed. "Front truck, hiding behind open driver's door."

Lassiter nodded. He looked in Juliet's direction. She was trying to see what had happened, but when she leaned too far out, Cesar fired, hitting the barrel again. Lassiter waved at her and held up his hand to tell her to just stay under cover. She pointed to Frank and he gave her an okay sign. He looked at the front door again, trying to form a plan of action with his sluggish brain. He noticed a stack of rolled tarps nearby. Then something on the wall caught his attention, but it took a moment for the significance of the object to sink in. When it did, he had his plan. He turned back to Frank.

"Give me the gun."

Frank held it up to him, then rubbed the back of his head. "Oof, I hit my head on this floor," he said.

"Looks like you hit that bullet with your arm, too," said Lassiter. Frank snorted as Lassiter checked the gun and then tucked it into his waistband. "Just hang in there, I've got an idea for the guy outside."

He moved to the other side of the door and looked up at the control box with the plastic cover protecting the big red button underneath. He wondered for a moment in his floating brain what it was about big red buttons that made people want to push them. Luckily, he would get to indulge himself today. He reached up, lifted the cover, and pushed the button. The tall rolling door started to rumble and rise. He ran back to the other side of the door and pushed it open a tiny bit to try to get a visual on the bad guy. He could see the man looking at the rolling door but still aiming at the front door. Lassiter went over to the stack of tarps and pulled one to the ground, struggling a bit with having to only use his left arm along with his general weakness. He positioned it and pushed it with his foot to make it roll across the rapidly widening opening. He ran to the front door, pulling out the gun, as a shot rang out from outside. He pushed the door open with his left shoulder, trying to brace his left arm against the door for support to steady his shot. The man had stepped out from the SUV just enough. Lassiter aimed and fired. He hit the truck door, his shot off by a good two feet.

"Shit," he hissed. He blinked and willed himself to focus as the man turned towards him. He fired again and the man fell, unmoving. Lassiter slumped over, feeling as if he'd just run a marathon. He moved back to Frank's side and looked at Juliet, but she wasn't behind the barrel anymore.

**oOoOoOoOoOoO**

Shawn rubbed at his sore rear end where he'd landed after trying to get down from the walkway without a set of stairs. He'd meant to roll after the drop, but he'd ended up just jarring his knees and then falling hard onto his backside. At least there weren't style points involved. He was moving around a stack of pallets that was behind Cesar's hiding place. Unfortunately, the pallets weren't close enough or stacked high enough to try and toppled them onto the man, but he was pleased to find a pallet with a loose slat. He pried the wooden piece off and proceeded to stalk his prey. As he rounded the corner of the pallets, he heard Cesar fire his weapon again. Shawn tried to see where Juliet was, but his view was blocked. He was pretty sure, though that the powdery stuff was leaking from the barrel faster, which meant he'd probably hit it again. Shawn assumed maximum stealth mode and stepped out from behind the pallets, wooden club raised.

He got to within a couple steps of Cesar, hardly believing his own stealthiness, but then Cesar started to whip around. Shawn swung down hard, hoping to hit something vital because the man was moving faster than he could aim his swing. The board slammed down on Cesar's forearm and the gun fell to the floor. Shawn stepped forward and kicked the gun so that it skittered away under the pallets, then he turned back to Cesar, board raised for another swing. Before he could bring the board around, though, he saw too late that Cesar's left fist was already arcing towards him. It caught Shawn on his right cheek. Bright lights seemed to explode in his vision. He heard something wooden clatter to the hard floor, and then he was blinking up at an impossibly high ceiling. He thought he saw a small bird flying in the rafters and wondered if the cartoons had all been accurate about birds flying around your head after you were knocked silly. He could see Cesar looming overhead for a moment, but then, inexplicably, the man turned and ran off.

"Yeah, you better run, creepy dude. You see what kind of ass-kicking I've got in store for you," said Shawn from the flat of his back. Actually, he wasn't entirely sure everything he'd just said hadn't come out sounding more like "Guuhhh..."

"Shawn!" cried Juliet who was suddenly standing over him.

"So that's why the guy ran," said Shawn. Juliet just gave him a puzzled look as she held out her hand.

"Come on, Shawn, we need to check on Frank and Lassiter. I think Frank got shot."

Shawn wobbled for a moment after getting to his feet. He rubbed at his sore cheek and moved his jaw around.

"What about him?" he asked, waving in the general direction of Cesar's retreat.

She shrugged, looking around alertly. "Keep your eyes open. Let's just get outside. Hopefully backup will be here any minute," she said, her words more optimistic than her expression.

Shawn nodded, then stopped because it made him dizzy. She waved him ahead of her towards the front door and followed, scanning the area for Cesar. Another shot rang out from the direction of the front door. Shawn yelped in surprise. Juliet pushed past him, gun raised, as they rounded the boxes. Lassiter was sitting next to Frank, who was still lying on the ground near the door holding his wounded arm and looking dazedly at the ceiling. Lassie's gun was up and aimed along the front wall. When they reached him, he looked up and shook his head.

"Cesar ran past and out that door. I tried to hit him, but my aim's a little off," he said tiredly. Actually, he looked like he was about to pass out. Shawn was amazed he'd been able to raise the gun and get off a shot.

"Good try buddy," said Shawn.

Lassiter squinted up at him. "Hi, Spencer. Good to see you."

Shawn knew then how out of it Lassie had to be to say something like that. He smiled. "Thanks, man. But what are we going to do now? There's a bunch of bad guys playing rodeo with a forklift back there, but we don't know how long that'll last. And now we've got at least one bad guy out front somewhere."

"Should just be Cesar out front," mumbled Lassiter. He was sitting with his knees pulled up and his left arm resting on his left knee, the gun just dangling in his grip. Shawn saw that his right arm was tucked into his shirt. "I got the guy who stayed with the trucks."

Shawn raised his eyebrows and gave Lassie and admiring look.

Juliet was crouched near the garage door, leaning to peer outside. She turned so that she could talk to them while still keeping an eye on the outside. "I don't see him out there. One of the trucks is gone. Maybe he took it. They were both still here when I came in a few minutes ago."

"Maybe," said Shawn. "Or maybe those injured guys they'd loaded in that truck saw Lassie doing his Steven Seagal impression and decided to beat it before Cesar could join them."

"Well, we can just stay here, or go back into the office and barricade ourselves in until backup arrives," suggested Juliet.

Shawn grimaced. "I'm pretty tired of this place, and I'm also feeling a bit vitamin D deficient. I say we go outside."

Juliet gave a half-shrug and then they both looked at Lassiter. He was squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again as if trying to clear his vision. . "Um, maybe these guys can hang here for a minute while we check outside," said Shawn. Lassiter squinted up at them looking vaguely confused, and Frank just grunted. "Okay, that settles it then! Let's go."

"I'll go out the garage door, you go out that one," said Juliet.

Shawn grabbed a crowbar that was leaning against the wall near the front door. He'd considered asking Lassie for the gun, but he thought the crowbar would look sexier. He also thought that, in general, having a gun was much more dangerous to one's own self than not. He looked over at Juliet. "Ready?"

"Go."

Shawn opened the front door, crowbar raised. Two things happened at once. He heard Juliet yell "Freeze!" and he saw a blur as Cesar lunged for him. He'd been standing up against the wall of the building between the front door and the garage door, apparently waiting for them to make a move. He'd probably been able to hear their plans from that position too, Shawn realized with an inner sigh. He'd placed himself where Juliet would have to hesitate taking a shot because of Shawn being in the line of fire. All of these thoughts flashed through Shawn's brain in the split second that it took for him to take the step out the door and focus on the man hurtling towards him. He tried to swing the crowbar, but Cesar grabbed it and pulled him off balance. They spun around several times, struggling for the bar. Shawn caught glimpses of Juliet waiting for a clear shot with a frightened look on her face. He held onto the crowbar desperately, just trying to keep Cesar from ripping it away, but then Cesar yanked him to the side and kicked out with a foot, catching him in the knee. He felt his hands slip from the bar as his knee gave out and he fell to the ground. He tried to lunge for Cesar's legs, but the man spun away as soon as he had the crowbar.

Shawn watched with horror as Cesar turned and swung the crowbar like a bat, releasing it so that it started to fly towards Juliet. She saw the metal bar spinning at her through the air and had to jump to the side to avoid it. In that time, Cesar had sprinted towards her. Before she could bring her gun to bear again, he swung his left arm in a backhanded swipe that knocked the gun out of her hand, and then he punched her with his right hand.

"Jules!" yelled Shawn, pushing to his feet and stumbling towards them, heart racing.

He saw Juliet fall to the ground. He saw Cesar reaching for her gun. He jumped, trying for a flying tackle. He plowed into Cesar's left side and tried to drive him into the dirt, but the man had seen him coming. He'd planted his feet and now Shawn felt like he was trying to push over a tree. This isn't good, though Shawn ruefully. Cesar brought a knee up into Shawn's midsection, knocking all of his breath away. Then he did it again. Shawn gaped like a dying fish but tried to hold onto the man's waist. Cesar spun around and pushed Shawn's head down hard until he fell off. Shawn landed in a heap on the ground, still fighting for air. He blinked at Cesar as he leaned over and picked up Juliet's gun. Shawn thought about how angry his father was going to be. Cesar raised the weapon. There was a gunshot, and a patch of red blossomed on Cesar's side. Shawn felt a tiny bit of oxygen finally get through as he gasped in surprise. Cesar looked shocked as well and tried to turn to see who had shot him, but then Juliet reared up behind him with the crowbar. She swung it against his back and he fell to the ground, the gun dropping from his hand. Shawn turned his head to find Lassie standing near the front door, lowering his gun.

"Well, that went smoothly," croaked Shawn. He sat up, wincing against the complaints of his sore stomach. "Great shot, Lassie."

Lassiter walked over to stand next to Shawn as Juliet retrieved her gun again and joined them. "I was aiming for his head," said Lassiter dryly. "But he told me earlier that I was a thorn in his side, so I guess it was appropriate. Are you okay, O'Hara?"

Juliet was holding a hand against her left cheek, wincing. "Yeah, I'll be fine. That guy could move quick!"

Lassie and Shawn nodded in unison. Lassiter held out his gun to Shawn. "Here, take this," he said. Shawn took the gun. Then Lassiter held out his hand to help Shawn up. Shawn took it but tried not to pull on the detective too hard, knowing that he wasn't in very good shape. He was oddly touched at Lassie's proffered hand, though, and wanted to accept the help.

"Thanks," he said when he was standing again. But then Lassie didn't let go of his hand.

"Help me down now," said Lassie as his eyes started to glaze over. "I'm going to pass out."

"Oh, jeez," said Shawn as he tried to hang onto Lassie's arm and ease him to the ground slowly. Juliet rushed over and lent a hand as well. They helped him lie down on his back as he let out a groaning sigh of pain and relief. In the bright daylight, Shawn was able to see clearly the odd angle of Lassie's right arm and his stomach twisted sickly at the sight. It was either broken or the elbow was badly dislocated.

"What a crappy day," mumbled Lassiter as he covered his eyes with his left arm.

Shawn and Juliet were looking down at Lassiter when someone came running out of the big warehouse door. He had a gun and held it on them, but then he lowered it.

"Jen!" yelled Jason. "What the hell?"

"Jason, put the gun down," said Juliet tiredly as she turned to face him.

"What are you doing out here? Is that Cesar? Oh my god, did you kill him?"

Juliet shook her head. "No," she said, but then she glanced down at Cesar's still form. "Well, I don't know. But what are you doing?"

"I saw that Cesar wasn't around and I wanted to see what he was up to. I wanted to make sure he wasn't doing something to you."

Shawn raised his eyebrows and looked down at Lassiter who was squinting up at him with one eye from under his left arm. He gave Shawn a little half-shrug and closed his eye again. Shawn looked at Juliet and Jason again. Jason was eyeing him and Lassiter suspiciously as he walked up to Juliet.

"What's the deal with these guys anyway?"

Before Juliet could answer, the distant sound of sirens reached them, finally. Shawn and Juliet both gave sighs of relief at the sound, but Jason started to panic.

"We have to get out of here, Jen. Come on," he said as he grabbed her arm.

"Jason, let go of my arm," growled Juliet, pulling back on his grip as he tried to drag her towards his car.

"Come on, honey," he said.

"Okay, that's it," said Juliet. She wound up and punched Jason square on the nose.

Jason dropped his gun and fell back hard on his rear end, holding his nose with both hands as blood started to pour out of it.

"I'm a cop, you idiot, and you're under arrest." She retrieved Jason's gun and then turned back to Shawn, face still red with anger. "Shawn, keep an eye on him, please."

"Absolutely," he said, considering adding "honey" for a brief instant before his survival instincts kicked in.

Juliet walked over to Lassiter and crouched down. "Carlton, I need to borrow your badge."

"Okee dokee," he mumbled.

Juliet pulled the badge off of Lassiter's belt and held it up over her head as the flood of police vehicles started to arrive at the warehouse.


	9. Chapter 9

**EPILOGUE**

Ten days later, Shawn was stalling, and his favorite way to do so, as usual, was to bug Lassie.

"I know! It was a mob of clowns who were angry that you pulled them over for a traffic violation because they all had to pile out of their tiny car to get to the registration in the glove compartment. So they stole your pants and jumped back in the car in the world's slowest fast getaway, and you couldn't chase them down again because your keys were in your pants. Right? And also because they'd thrown a pie in your face. I'm right that time, right? So now you keep a key inside your car! And a shammy!" Shawn exclaimed with a triumphant grin.

He had discovered, with some quiet digging and a bribe of Nutter Butters for McNab, that Lassiter had lost his car keys when chasing a suspect years earlier. A pit bull in the suspect's yard had ripped a hole in his pants pocket. The guy had been able to reach his own car and drive off, and Lassiter hadn't been able to follow. The suspect had gone on to commit several more muggings before they'd been able to track him down again. Shawn knew it was a sore spot for Lassiter, so he didn't want to tease him about it too much, but he figured some light-hearted ribbing wouldn't hurt. It could even take some of the sting away. Or at the very least it would keep him from dying of boredom, which also tended to sting.

Lassiter gave him his signature glare-out-of-the-corner-of-his-eyes look before moving his eyes back to the report on his desk. "Spencer, please just shut up and go away. I have a lot of work to do," growled Lassiter. He was sitting at his desk with a pile of reports which were taking him twice as long to complete since only his left hand was working. His right arm was going to be in a cast for a few more weeks. He wasn't supposed to use his right hand for anything at all, so he was going crazy trying to fill out forms left-handed.

"Why are you such a crankhole today?"

Lassiter's brow furrowed. "Crankhole?"

"Yes, crankhole. It's a new word. I've just discovered it. I will be submitting a patent for it this afternoon."

Lassiter just shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Spencer. But you can't seriously be asking why I'm angry. You got me a reprimand from the chief and a month's worth of O'Hara's paperwork to do, not to mention a broken arm and a concussion that'll have me stuck on desk duty for weeks!"

"Mild concussion," said Shawn, meeting Lassiter's glare. "And the chief wasn't nearly as hard on you as she was on me, man. I mean, you did get credit for nabbing Colombian jewel thieves."

Lassiter's face softened into a quick, proud smile for a moment. "That's true," he said quietly. Then he frowned again, dredging up what seemed to Shawn a half-hearted look of reproach. "But you really think the chief was hard on you? You have to help your father fix the roof on his house before you can work any more cases. I'm amazed you're still breathing."

Shawn stifled a smile. Needling Lassiter was fun, but sometimes trading good-natured jabs was fun too. "Dude, you have no idea."

Juliet walked over to Lassiter's desk. "Lunchtime, Shawn," she said with a sly grin.

Gus came walking up as well, nodding at Juliet. "Sorry I'm a little late. Meeting went over."

"No problem, Gus," said Juliet smiling, then she looked at Shawn again with eyebrows raised.

"Aw man," said Shawn. "Is it that time again already?"

"Yes, Shawn, it is," said Gus haughtily.

Shawn stood up and dug several bills out of his pocket, handing them to Juliet.

"Thanks, Shawn! Now where do you want to go today, Gus?"

"There's a new Ethiopian place I heard about. Do you want to give it a try?" asked Gus eagerly.

"Sounds great! Carlton, do you want that too?"

Lassiter considered for a moment and then shook his head. "I don't know if that stuff travels well. Just bring me back some tacos, please."

"Sure thing, partner," said Juliet.

Shawn groaned and mumbled, "So not fair."

"See you guys later," said Juliet with a jaunty wave.

Shawn glared at their retreating forms before looking back to catch the smirk on Lassiter's face. "This blows," said Shawn. Then he looked at his watch. "Time to go, I guess. I don't want dad calling the chief again looking for me."

Lassiter kept smiling as he worked on another form. Shawn turned to go, but then he swung back to Lassiter's desk. "Oh, I almost forgot," he began, giving Lassiter a mischievous look and wiggling his eyebrows.

Lassiter's smile faded and he sighed. "What is it now?"

Shawn walked over to a file cabinet and pulled a rectangular box off of it, then returned. "I got you something," he said as he put the box down on top of Lassiter's paperwork.

Lassiter regarded the box suspiciously. "If anything jumps out of that at me, Spencer, so help me god."

"Just open it, crankhole."

Lassiter lifted the lid and his face fell into a look of puzzled surprise for a moment. His eyebrows drew together and he looked up at Shawn. "Is this a cake?"

Shawn smiled. "Indeed it is! And it's all yours. You can have it, and you can eat it too," said Shawn with a wry grin. "You just might want to wait until after lunch, otherwise you'll get indigestion. Believe me." He turned to leave, raising his hand in a wave as he walked out of the station to go serve his time.

Lassiter shook his head for a moment in disbelief. Then a slow grin lit up his face as he stared at the handgun-shaped cake.

THE END


End file.
